One Wild Ride
by CCgwtw
Summary: My Sunny, Funny Ficathon 2009 Entry. Scarlett, at 16, meets a visitor from Charleston in a story that presents an entirely different side of our heroine.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Why it can't be! Ashley loves me!" The news from the Tarleton twins of Ashley's imminent betrothal to Melanie Hamilton took Scarlett by surprise. She set off down the driveway, ignoring her guests who looked back and forth at each other with perplexed expressions on their faces.

"Did we say something to make her angry?" Stuart Tarleton asked his brother, Brent.

"I don't know. She was chirping along just fine, then she suddenly clammed up," Brent replied.

Mammy, who had poked her head out of an upstairs window, saw Scarlett take off down the drive and yelled to her: "Where are you going without your shawl with the night air fixin' to set in? Why didn't you invite those boys to supper? You have no more manners than a field hand!"

"I wish I were a field hand," muttered Scarlett under her breath. "Then, I wouldn't have these problems." That thought crossed her mind at the precise moment that the corner of the stables caught her eye. An idea popped into her head. She took off toward the stables where Tara's proud legion of horses was housed. She knew right where to go—a trunk tucked into the far back corner of the stable, near the blacksmith's shop, which held spare clothes for the boys who regularly became soaked to the skin when they washed down an ornery horse.

She quick pulled out some clothes then ran to the house, where she sneaked up the back, servant stairs and into her room. She pulled off her white ruffled dress and undid her hair from the ribbons that held the sides of her hair away from her face. She donned the ragged pair of pants and buttoned up the blue chambray shirt. She tucked it in and although the pants were big around her, the length was about right. She cinched in the waist with a rope that was tucked amid the clothing items. "There, that should hold them," she said. Her long hair hung down her back, so she twisted it into a tight chignon and pinned it securely on the top of her crown then, smashed a wide rimmed straw hat down onto her head, low enough to hide her face and her hair. She pulled on her own riding boots and took back off down the stairs, running to the stable. She skipped smoothly over a muddy trench that was being dug to allow water to run off during heavy storms, then turned suddenly and took notice of it. She walked back to the muddy makeshift creek, cast furtive glances to the left and right to see if anyone was looking, bent down and dirtied her hands in the mud. Bringing her hands up to her face, she rubbed them across her cheeks, chin and nose, which she wrinkled in disgust at the entire process. Apparently something foul was mixed into the mud for her hands and the mixture she had just smeared over her face emitted a terrible stench but she only shrugged. "Better safe than sorry." Then, she ran off toward the stable.

"How could Ashley marry that mealy-mouthed Melanie?" wondered Scarlett for the umpteenth time as she mounted Sumter, a new filly her father had just purchased, with ease, securing her left foot in the stirrup and throwing her right over the saddle before barging out of the stable at a gallop. She tore across the yard and jumped over the hedge. Not wanting to ride down the main drive, she took a back way that led to the main road, swerving amid the trees and bushes and hedges that impeded her path. She cleared the last barrier with ease and continued at a gallop through the pasture, over a slight rise and then down a ravine before she came upon the main road. She was just climbing out of the ravine and was beginning to pick up speed when the Tarleton twins nearly ran her and her horse down.

"What the hell!" shouted Stuart. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You can't come tearing out of the woods like that. You'll get yourself killed!" admonished Brent. "Wait a minute—" Stuart was still trying to regain control of his horse after the near miss collision, while Brent already had reined his in. He got a closer look at the careless rider and burst out laughing. "I thought you were some no count Cracker from down the road. That's a good one! Hey, Stu, come look at this," he called to his brother.

"What?" asked Stuart as he rode closer. Upon seeing Scarlett tilt her chin defiantly at him, he repeated again, "What the hell?" as he stared closely at Scarlett with more concentration than he ever had been able to muster when faced with a textbook.

"Hey, we were looking for you, Scarlett," Brent said.

"Just why were you looking for me?" she returned, choosing to ignore their startled looks and take control of the conversation.

"Your mammy invited us to supper, so we thought we'd come down the drive and look for you. Who knew you'd be dressed in that get-up tearing through the woods," Brent explained.

"Oh, God, where did you find those clothes? You positively reek," Stuart told her.

"Listen, boys, if we're to get on at all, you must forget you ever saw me," stated Scarlett.

"Your mother would be mad, I bet," guessed Brent.

"Mad isn't the word," Scarlett replied.

"Scarlett, no offense, but, golly, I've never known you to smell like this. Could you please move your horse down wind?" Stuart was taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to cover his nose.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I'll race you to Mimosa and the only thing you'll smell is my dust," she said, kicking her heels into the horse's flank, and then taking off at breakneck speed.

Neither Brent nor Stuart was prepared for a race. Both sat lazily in their saddles, still recovering from the shock of seeing Scarlett dressed as a pickaninny and smelling like a sow that had rolled around in its own swill. However, neither could refuse an invitation to a race and they, too, called to their horses, slapping them on their hindquarters until they took off down the red road, leaving only a cloud of dust behind. Why this is like the Scarlett of the old days, they thought, before she grew old enough to put her hair up and her skirts down.

Scarlett was annoyed. She knew her secret was safe with the twins, but she did sorely miss the time she wanted to be alone. Time to ponder Ashley and the unfairness of it all. He loved her, she just knew he did. Why did the Tarletons have to ruin her solitary ride? She wanted to race against the wind, burn off her frustration the only way she knew how, being utterly free of society's do's and don'ts; free to do as she wanted, just like a man—without a corset to cage her in. Well, she'd enjoy what little time she had racing down the road to Mimosa. She had left them far behind and she'd also enjoy her ride home; she'd challenge them to another race and that way, she'd be able to enjoy a solo ride home as well. She heard someone calling out in the distance and assumed it was Brent or Stu in one of their attempts to fool her into thinking their horse was lame or there was some other problem, just to get her to slow down, then they would overtake her. So, she paid the voice no heed.

It didn't stop. The voice kept calling and finally, Scarlett recognized it as coming not from her rear, but from the crossroad that she was fast approaching.

"Boy! Boy!" shouted a man in a carriage at the intersection. "Boy! I'm needing directions." He yelled but Scarlett ignored his cry and hand waving, until she couldn't ignore him any longer. He had curbed his carriage directly in front of her path, cutting her off. She could either plow her horse through a newly sowed field, which was frowned upon in the county, or she could launch herself head first into a long row of shrubbery that bordered the road. The horse reared up as she pulled up on the reigns to make a sudden stop.

"Boy! You're riding like a reckless fool! You could have hurt someone, not to mention yourself," admonished the man who Scarlett recognized immediately to be Frank Kennedy, a fussy man if she ever saw one, who was half-heartedly courting her sister, Suellen. Scarlett kept her head down, but knew her ruse was up. She couldn't conceal her face much longer from Frank and the stranger who rode alongside him in the carriage.

"Well, speak up boy! What do you have to say for yourself?" asked Frank, as he stroked his ginger-colored whiskers. He was nicely dressed but always looked rumpled, thought Scarlett. She didn't know how old he was, but she guessed that he wasn't that much younger than her father judging from his looks. Finally, Scarlett had no choice but to answer him. She did it with a proud tilt of her chin and noticed that sitting alongside Frank Kennedy was the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on. He was swarthy with jet black hair and a closely-clipped black mustache. He was impeccably dressed with a white suit with a white Panama hat on his head. His handsomeness made her feel more than a little conspicuous and she pulled the brim of her hat further down over her face.

Before she could respond to Frank, the exchange was interrupted by wild whoops of laughter and yells as the Tarleton twins barreled down upon them.

"Hey, Scarlett! You thought you were going to win, but we'll see to that!" Brent called over his shoulder as he passed her.

"What's holding you up?" Stuart yelled, as he, too, passed the carriage up before turning back to see what was the matter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kennedy," Scarlett said, knowing full well that there was no reason to continue with her masquerade in light of the twins' obvious blunder.

"Why…Why…It's Miss O'Hara!" exclaimed Frank, who recognized the name spoken by the twins. "What are you doing? Is there something wrong at Tara?"

"Not at all, Mr. Kennedy. I'm just out for a ride."

"Well…well, Miss O'Hara," he began, flustered but then suddenly paternal. "I'm afraid you've put yourself at great risk, riding as you have done today. I'm afraid I feel compelled to speak to your parents."

"That will do you no good," she replied with restraint, having preferred to hurl one of Gerald's favorite oaths at the fussy old main in britches, but she held her tongue. "My father is the one who asked me to exercise this horse. However, my mother prefers that our stable boy handle this chore, but unfortunately, my father does not trust him with this particular filly. So you see, Mr. Kennedy, by bringing this up to my parents, you'll not only embarrass my father, but well…Surely you can see how awkward it would be?" she lied smoothly.

"Ahh, yes…I…I…see," Frank stammered. "But…but…I still feel that…"

"Let it go, Frank," suggested the man seated in the carriage in a voice that carried a distinct Charlestonian accent. His eyes hadn't left the young figure on the horse. He continued to scrutinize her up and down to the point that he thought he detected her squirming slightly in her saddle under his gaze. He had spent part of the previous evening and all day with Frank Kennedy, starting when they met in Jonesboro last night. He was led to believe that the man had contacts in this area of Georgia that would help him procure as much cotton as his money could buy, for Rhett Butler was nothing if not a man with a plan.

The war was to start any day now and he figured when the south met its ultimate demise, he would be a wealthy man if, and only if, he could buy up as much cotton as he could afford, run it to England on his newly purchased boats, store it there until the end of the war at which time, he could name his own price. This ultimate prize had been worth putting up with Frank Kennedy as his conduit to the wealthy planters in Clayton County. Last evening, he had murmured the appropriate responses that kept the man talking ad nauseum. As a result, Rhett knew quite a bit about the locals that he was scheduled to meet and hoped to woo into opening their wallets over the next couple of days. They were, in fact, on their way to meet with a one Gerald O'Hara, the Irish immigrant owner of Tara, a well-to-do plantation in the area. Last evening, over several whiskies (induced by Rhett over Frank's objections; he preferred tea, thank you) Frank had regaled Rhett with tales of the families in the county and because they were meeting with O'Hara the next day, he spoke at length about the man, how he came to own Tara, his wife and notably, his three daughters.

Snickering with a bashful look on his face, Frank had admitted that he was smitten with the middle daughter, Suellen. At the time, Rhett had wondered what kind of girl would go for a man like Frank Kennedy, who was fussy and slightly effeminate to a fault. He figured she couldn't possibly be the belle of the county or why would she settle for old Frank. Now, he had his answer. If the older sister was any indication of what Suellen looked like, the middle O'Hara girl didn't exactly have a full dance card.

"Hello, Mr. Kennedy," nodded Brent before turning to the dirty figure on the horse. "C'mon, Scarlett, let's go!"

"Good to see you again, Mr. Kennedy," added Stuart, before he, too, turned his attention to the rider at his side. "Yes, Scarlett, let's go. We can still get our ride in before supper."

_Scarlett_. Rhett rolled the name around on this tongue. It was slightly decadent, obscure, sensuous and yet bold and brazen. What an unusual name for such a common creature, he thought. Rhett was obviously puzzled as both boys jostled for the girl-boy's attention, each trying to angle their horse in a prime position where she would be most likely to give them preferential treatment. Now Rhett was confused. This girl, if he could believe that she was indeed a female, had a pointed chin and square jaw, which wasn't indicative of a great beauty. Physically, the build was slight and small. But she did have a quality—something he could only define as charm of some sort that certainly drew these boys like a moth to a flame. If only he could see the rest of her face. Damn that hat! But obviously that was her intention. She didn't want to be recognized. If only…if only…the breeze would flutter that brim up and away from her face, but it didn't. But, from what he did see, taking away the grime and the odious smell, he deduced that Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charms as the Tarleton twins were. They were obviously captivated by her. He had seen enough men make fools of themselves over a woman to know when a man was thinking with his loins and not his head. But this just didn't make sense. How could they be so enraptured, the both of them, with such an obvious tomboy? Was it her charm? She-he certainly had spirit, he had to admit. She-he rode a horse as well as any man and had cleared that last hedge like a champion. Finally, Rhett concluded that they must be childhood friends. That explained the relationship; it wasn't based on attraction, but on camaraderie. He surmised that neither boy would be dancing with this girl any time soon and for a brief moment, he imagined himself entering the Saint Cecilia Ball in Charleston with this little piece on his arm. "Wouldn't my father like that," thought Rhett, and chuckled to himself at the absurdity of the idea. But it still intrigued him in a malicious way. It would be wonderful to thumb his nose as Charleston's blue bloods, and particularly this father, by attending a social function with such an unsuitable creature.

"I just need directions before you go," said Frank. "We've a meeting with your father this afternoon and I'm not clear on which is the road to Tara."

"Follow me then," sighed Scarlett, disappointed that her ride was cut short by this ill-timed meeting. "I'll lead you to the main drive and indicate with a wave where you should turn in. You can follow the Tarletons here, just don't follow me. I'll be heading around back to the stables."

"Thank you, Miss O'Hara. But…ummm, I have to say again, I feel that I should say something—"

"Mr. Kennedy," Scarlett interrupted. "I understand your obvious concern and I am flattered. However, by speaking to my parents you will unwittingly place my father in a rather uncomfortable situation," she explained in a sugary sweet tone as she surveyed both Frank and then, Rhett, in the carriage. "If you're looking to do business with him, you wouldn't want to maneuver him against a wall in front of his wife, would you?"

"Frank, she's got a point," Rhett interjected. "You don't want to start off on the wrong foot with Mr. O'Hara." He directed his suggestion at Frank, but cast a quick glance at Scarlett and gave her wink of assurance, followed by a quick smile. He wasn't exactly sure what it was about her that made him want to befriend her. But his initial opinion of her was changing. She certainly was well spoken, which was at odds with her attire. She was not the daughter of an illiterate backwoods planter. While her father may have immigrated from Ireland, he recalled Frank saying something about her mother being a Robillard of Savannah. The name struck a chord of familiarity. He did not immediately recall where he heard the name, but figured that the girl's mother had imparted to her daughter some manners and her voice was obviously cultured.

Rhett thought that he caught sight of a slight smile bestowed his way in return for his suggestion, but it was too fleeting to be certain. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right," Frank grudgingly admitted, combing his fingers through his whiskers again. Then, suddenly as if he just awoke to his own omission, he quickly moved to correct his error. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss O'Hara. Let me introduce my companion, Mr. Rhett Butler from Charleston. Rhett, this is Gerald's eldest daughter, Miss Scarlett O'Hara."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss O'Hara," said Rhett, extending his hand to her.

"My pleasure, Mr. Butler," replied Scarlett, ignoring his hand and turning quickly, she clucked to the horse and set off at a rapid pace. Rhett withdrew his hand, turning it over and looking at his palm, then up the road at the vixen tearing down the road. He shook his head and brushed his hand on his pant leg. It took a moment for Frank to regain his bearings and when he did, they set off behind Scarlett O'Hara and the twins, choking on their red dust.

TBC…

**Author Note: Pimpernel Princess provided my sentence**

"**Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught**

**by her charms as the Tarleton twins were."**

**Time period: the barbecue at Twelve Oaks or before.**

**POV: a beau of Scarlett's **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Tara

On the road again, Rhett prompted Frank for some more information. The girl was a curious mixture of fire and ice. Her wild ways and seeming courage to turn her back on the social mores of the day piqued his interest; her coldness and refusal to offer him her hand challenged his ego. His initial thought was that she was backwards; a girl raised on a rural farm as a boy, but the background Frank gave him told Rhett otherwise. Furthermore, the Tarleton boys were clearly infatuated with her. But then again, he told himself. They were boys, boys who could easily caught up in the charms of a childhood playmate.

"So, what is on our agenda for this visit, Frank?" Rhett asked with a bland face.

"I'd like us to meet with Mr. O'Hara this evening. It is my wish that he'll invite us to stay for supper. I'd certainly like a moment or two with Miss Suellen," he snickered shyly.

"Ah, yes, young love…" Rhett sighed with a hint of sarcasm that went soaring over Frank's head.

"Then, we'll head back to Jonesboro. It will probably be a late night and an even earlier morning. You just have to accompany me to the barbeque at Twelve Oaks tomorrow. We'll head back here in the morning. Twelve Oaks' hospitality is renowned throughout the state and John Wilkes will welcome us with open arms. The plantation is just up the road from Tara. We can wrap up any unfinished business then."

Rhett's heart sank at the thought. It was his hope to meet with Mr. O'Hara this evening and head back to Jonesboro tonight. Then, catch the first train out of Jonesboro to Atlanta in the morning. By his watch, he could easily be back in Charleston by late tomorrow night. Damn, he knew he never should have agreed to travel with Kennedy. He should have insisted on his own carriage, which would have meant he could have left at his discretion. Now, he was stuck. Stuck in rural Georgia sitting through an evening amid a family he had no desire to meet, followed by an arduous trip back to the hotel, only to return to an insufferable barbeque the next day with more and more insipid talk from people who placed all of their hopes on the Southland and refused to acknowledge the impending disaster that lay ahead. He felt like he was condemned to attend a two-day circus sideshow.

They found the turn to Tara and alighted from the carriage just in time to see the twins elbowing each other as they ran up the porch steps, apparently amusing themselves with a story they were telling about someone named Honey who had a rather large posterior. Rhett shook his head in disgust. He was in for quite an evening.

Tara was a rambling whitewashed home with green shutters, awkward in its layout and design, but with a singular charm, thought Rhett. Inside, the house was immaculate and tastefully furnished. It wasn't long before Mr. O'Hara had been summoned to the front foyer.

Gerald ushered the pair into his office, just off the foyer, where they immersed themselves in business for the next couple of hours. There, they discussed the price of cotton with Frank occasionally chiming in here and there; his contributions to the negotiation going largely unnoticed by Gerald and Rhett, who argued back and forth until both were satisfied with the deal.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Butler, but I wouldn't respect ye if ye didn't," said Gerald, extending his hand in a hearty handshake that sealed the deal.

"Likewise, Mr. O'Hara," Rhett said solemnly.

"You know," Gerald waved his hand so that Rhett had to lean in to hear him. "I've taken a liking to you, me lad. Frank here has taken a fancy to my middle daughter, Suellen. Perhaps…hmmm," he said, stroking his chin. "Listen, I don't mind sayin' that I've got myself a handful in me eldest and…"

Rhett knew where the conversation was going. He heard enough proud fathers extol the virtues of their daughters, like a street vendor hawking a mule, to know that Gerald O'Hara was looking for a suitor for his eldest daughter, Scarlett. It was custom that daughters would marry off in order of their age. Therefore, Suellen couldn't really marry Frank until the oldest was spoken for and so forth. Immediately, Rhett's eyes darted for the door and a possible escape route. "Damn Frank and this meeting nonsense," he thought not for the first time that day. "Why did we have to end up in this back woods plantation anyway?" Rhett knew he had just made a very lucrative deal but at the same time, he would have traded a sizeable percentage of the profit he was sure to make on the sale of this cotton when the war was over if he could only escape his current predicament. He would hate for the evening to end in a duel that took some poor simpleton's life because he refused to court this Irishman's daughter.

Rhett Butler wasn't a marrying man. Oh, he liked the ladies, to be sure, but he was not a man who had ever desired a wife or a family. Instead, he preferred to sample life's delicacies and when he tired of a particular dish, he could move down the buffet and chose something else. Blondes, redheads, brunettes, women with fair skin, women with olive skin; Rhett Butler had enjoyed them all with no ties, no bonds, no vows. He had been born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina and knew what it was like to cultivate roots that ran deep. As Rhett was frequently heard saying, he had been there, knew what it was like to live steeped in tradition and he wanted none of it. He wanted roots that would tie him down no more than a fish desired wings; the idea was simply foreign to him. Rhett was awoken from his reverie when Gerald cleared his throat and looked at him expectantly. The last thing Rhett heard was his remarking about what a handful his eldest daughter was; of that, Rhett was sure he was not stretching the truth.

"I'm sure she is a delight, Mr. O'Hara, but as you can see, I'm quite a nomad. I'm the last man you'd ever want for your daughter," he said dismissively.

"Ah, you'll change your mind when you meet my puss. I'll tell you that! Why, my Katie Scarlett is the belle of the county and she has turned the head of every man for miles around. Now, that's true isn't it, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Oh, yes….yes. Turned every man's head, she did," echoed Frank, who was shaken to be invited into the conversation, which until this point had excluded him.

"Yes, sir, I'm sure she could," agreed Rhett with a smug smile that he pasted onto his face. "I'm also sure that she could make every man for hills as well once they got a whiff of her," he added to himself.

At that precise moment, there was a hesitant knock on the office door. "Come in," shouted Gerald as he slapped his knee, signaling a conclusion to their meeting. The door opened and a girl with pale skin and pale blonde hair poked her head in. She blushed and then batted her lashes as she first addressed her father and then Frank. "Good evening, Pa. Hello, Mr. Kennedy. Pa, Mother says that supper is nearly ready if you'd like to bring our guests to the dining room."

"Ah, yes, yes!" bellowed Gerald. "Of course! Come in here lass. Suellen, I'd like you to meet Mr. Rhett Butler, a business associate of mine. Mr. Kennedy, you already know," he added playfully, pinching her cheek.

"Oh, Pa…" replied Suellen, extending her hand a moment later to Rhett.

He took it as society dictated and murmured a polite greeting.

"Now, gentlemen, you'll stay for dinner, I insist. Come now, follow me," Gerald said, ushering their way out of the small office.

"Christ," thought Rhett. "If only I could escape somehow." He dreaded the long evening that lay before him and rolled his eyes as Frank, who didn't even notice as he was murmuring something to Suellen O'Hara as they strolled out of the office. Rhett followed like a tardy schoolboy, dragging his feet, dreading the punishment that was to come. Suellen was a comely girl, not nearly as unattractive as he expected. However, having said that, she was far from a beauty either. After meeting Scarlett, the flamboyant tomboy earlier in the day, he didn't hold out much hope for Suellen. Nevertheless, she surprised him. She was blonde and pale with blue eyes that she must have inherited from her father. However, they weren't the bright sparkly blue eyes of Gerald O'Hara, but the pale washed out blue of a sky obscured with threatening clouds.

Upstairs, Scarlett enlisted Rosa to help her clean up. She bathed, washed her hair and scrubbed her face with a soap that was a mixture of lavender and lemon verbena.

"Who is downstairs with my father, Rosa?"

"I saw Mist' Kennedy and another gempman," Rosa told her.

"Do you know if they are staying for dinner?"

"Yas'm, Miss Scarlett. I hear Mist' Gerald ask us to set extra plates for 'em."

"That stranger wid Mist' Gerald is de most handsomest man ever!" noted Rosa.

Scarlett couldn't disagree. "He is as handsome as the devil, isn't he," she remarked.

Scarlett desperately wanted to don her green sprigged water silk gown that she intended to wear for the barbeque tomorrow, but decided instead to put her white ruffled dress back on to avoid any suspicion on the part of her mother and Mammy. If Mammy ever learned that she went out riding astride, leaving the Tarleton boys on the front porch, they would skin her alive. Her mother wouldn't be too happy either. If she went riding at all, they insisted she wear her proper riding attire and ride her horse astride as society dictated, but that was no fun. Scarlett liked riding free, just the ways her Pa and the County boys did. So, she had begun sneaking out when she could and if truth be told, deceiving her mother and Mammy gave the adventure an added thrill. But it would do no good to get caught. And, so she had to put on the white ruffled dress again no matter how much she'd prefer to wear something more alluring, something that would catch the eye of the man from Charleston. But it wouldn't look right if Mammy or Mother noticed that she had changed her attire in the middle of the day. Scarlett's hair was still slightly damp and she urged Rosa to take her time arranging it and when she was finished, Scarlett pinched her cheeks to bring, which brought a rosy bloom to them, brightening her green eyes, and she bit her lips lightly so that they appeared more red and plump than usual.

Once Gerald, Frank, Rhett and Suellen stepped outside the office, they were met with Mrs. O'Hara, who made it her job to quickly greet her husband's guests. She extended a warm welcome to Frank and then turned to Rhett.

"Of course, Mr. Butler…from Charleston, isn't it? I remember meeting you once at my sister's home. Do you recall Eulalie Robillard?"

"Of course, Mrs. O'Hara. Mr. Kennedy told me you were from Savannah and your maiden name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it. How forgetful of me! Of course, I remember. Your other sister is Pauline, isn't that right? Yes, of course. Both Miss Eulalie and Miss Pauline are good friends of my mother."

"Eleanor Butler is such a wonderful lady. I remember her quite well," replied Ellen. "It is a pleasure to extend our hospitality to her son for she often extended hers to me."

Ellen O'Hara was quite a handsome woman. Her dark hair was perfectly coiffed and her brown eyes were warm and inviting. Her smile was serene, but she lacked a spark, Rhett noted. She was undeniably a bright spot in the evening. This wasn't the back woods hovel that he had envisioned. Of course, Gerald O'Hara was friendly and companionable; he was also sharp and had a lot of common sense. What bothered Rhett about Gerald was the prospect of their business transaction being turned into a negotiation that hinged on him offering matrimony to the man's eldest daughter. He didn't think that Ellen Robillard O'Hara would approve of such a proposition and relief flooded through him. She was one of _the_ Robillards of Savannah. She was well bred, educated and of French descent. He wondered how Gerald O'Hara, who was more than twice her age, ended up winning her heart, if in fact, he ever did.

There was a certain amount of commotion around the dining room table as the servants made their final preparations. Rhett cringed again at the prospect of it all. When traveling he always did his best to avoid family fetes, instead preferring the impersonal atmosphere, albeit a luxurious one traditionally afforded by a city's best hotel where a weary traveler could dine and enjoy a glass of wine and a cigar in relative anonymity without having to make small talk with relative strangers.

"Oh, Careen, would you please see if your sister is ready?" Ellen called to a girl that Rhett presumed to be the youngest of the three daughters. Now, here was another surprise. This girl was a duplicate of her mother. She was no more than twelve or thirteen years old but already looked to be a mirror image of her mother with her dark hair, white skin and dark brown eyes.

"Yes, Mother," she said obediently and skipped out of the room.

"Please, Mr. Butler, would you like to have a seat? You may sit here," indicated Ellen, pointing to a chair toward the head of the table on Gerald's right. Frank and Suellen took their seats next; Frank to Gerald's left and Suellen next to him.

"Scarlett is on her way down," Careen told her mother breathlessly as she ran into the room and smoothed her skirts as she took the seat at her mother's left hand.

There was a slight ruckus in the hall as the boisterous Tarleton twins apparently found Scarlett and had resumed their conversation with her. All eyes at the table looked up to the doorway expectantly.

"Look, Scarlett. About tomorrow," said Brent, as he backed into the dining room. "Just because we've been away and didn't know about the barbecue and the ball, that's no reason why we shouldn't get plenty of dances tomorrow night. You haven't promised them all, have you?"

"Well, I have! How did I know you all would be home? I couldn't risk being a wallflower just waiting on you two."

"You a wallflower!" The boys laughed uproariously.

"Ahem!" Gerald cleared his throat loudly enough for everyone throughout the house to hear. Everyone sat quietly at the table as Brent turned around, surprise written all over his face as he surveyed the entire family, servants as well as Frank and Rhett, all of which were sitting looking at him. Stuart followed and nearly bumped into Brent, who had stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at four stern faces that met his eyes—Gerald, Ellen, Mammy and Frank. Rhett was the only one whose eyes held no admonishment, only expectation. Like a cascading row of dominoes, Brent, then Stuart faced the firing squad of eyes that shot reprimands at them that said, "Get into your seats. Now!" They obediently followed suit, Brent taking the seat between Careen and Rhett, Stuart sitting next to Suellen, without saying another word.

In the days, weeks, months and years later, Rhett would forever remember detail for detail what happened next. In retrospect, Rhett acknowledged his life was never the same after Brent and Stuart stumbled into the dining room. From this moment forward, his life would be inextricably linked with the O'Haras, try as he might to change destiny, his future was foretold. Just as Brent and Stuart silently settled into their chairs, Scarlett O'Hara entered the dining room and Rhett Butler, man among men, a man who fed off of life's buffet like it was his for the taking, consuming what he wanted and throwing the leftovers to the beggars, was shaken to his very core and for a split second, sat gaping with raw hunger at the figure before him. For in the doorway stood the most captivating girl he had ever laid his eyes upon. He shook his head as if he could try to shake away the vision or hallucination like he usually did one brought on by an overindulgence in whiskey. No, the tomboy that he met earlier in the day on the road couldn't possibly be the vision that stood before him. This girl had white skin and dark hair that curled naturally down her shoulders, at which point it was captured by a red ribbon and brought back up to her crown. She was petite and small boned with a waist so small Rhett could have easily spanned it with his two hands and his fingers would have still overlapped. She wore a virginal white ruffled gown with short puffy sleeves. A cameo was fastened at her neck and she tiny waist was accentuated by a belt of red velvet.

However, most striking was her eyes. They were green without a touch of hazel. They were cat-like and made Rhett wonder just what she would do if he took her in his arms. And, her cheeks were pink and her lips were red, moist, full and kissable and Rhett imagined what it would feel like to press his lips to hers, part her lips and—. A loud crash in the kitchen startled Rhett out of his musing and he came back to his senses only to find himself fully aroused by this young woman while sitting at her family's dining table. The unexpected sound from the kitchen was like a doctor tapping below his knee to check his reflexes and he subconsciously hit his knee on the table. He twisted uncomfortably in his chair as Scarlett, the boy turned enchantress, took a seat at the opposite end of the table and he draped a linen napkin over his lap to conceal his discomfiture.

"Mr. Butler," injected Gerald, standing at the head of the table. "I'd like you to meet my eldest daughter, Katie Scarlett."

Scarlett's eyes fell upon Rhett and she nodded.

"Yes, Pa. We met earlier," she acknowledged, "but it is nice to see you again Mr. Butler."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss O'Hara." Scarlett cast him a quick, knowing smile and Rhett returned it with a wink.

Supper with ham, sweet potatoes, asparagus, and biscuits laden with butter or honey weighed down the table and for a moment, everyone was quiet as they filled their plates.

"Mr. Butler, you've been up north I hear…" said Gerald.

"Well, yes that's true, Mr. O'Hara."

"And what preparations were they making? Surely not enough to take on our brave lads in gray," Gerald boasted.

"Well, while I was there I made note of all the cannon factories, turning out munitions day after day after day. The Northerners are also enlisting immigrants coming in by the boatload and some of the wealthy are even buying their way out of service by hiring the poor to fill their military boots," stated Rhett.

"And what does that mean to a gentleman?" asked Brent.

"I'm afraid that it will mean a great deal to a great number of gentlemen, sir," replied Rhett with a voice that was nothing if not polite, but it was too glib to be interpreted as sincere. "There's not a cannon factory in the whole south—"

"What do we need with a canon factory?" Stuart asked.

"Well, sir, it does help you know when you can manufacture your own munitions." Rhett hesitated saying more and looked to his plate for diversion and indulged in the ham and sweet potatoes that he found there. This is exactly the kind of exchange he had wanted to avoid: raising the ire of these Confederate loyalists when they had no idea what they were talking about. He didn't want to be turned out from this table. Twenty minutes ago, he wouldn't have cared if he had been thrown out, but now, something held him and he didn't want to make himself persona non grata at Tara.

"This is a wonderful dinner, Mrs. O'Hara. As someone who doesn't get many home cooked meals, this is a real treat for me," Rhett said, deftly changing the subject.

"But you didn't answer my question," Stuart cut in, refusing to let the conversation drop. Rhett turned his eyes back to the young, redheaded boy and could feel his blood boiling beneath the surface. How silly these people were. What utter fools. Didn't they know that the South was doomed to lose any war that it might venture into? Along with the conversation, Stuart refused to let Rhett's gaze drop and he held his eyes like a rabid dog until Rhett feared that with the next word he spoke, the entire table would erupt in mayhem.

Then a soft voice sliced the conversation in two. "Stuart, what did you mother say about you and Brent being expelled from the university again?" Scarlett posed the question innocently enough, but to Rhett it was clear that she changed the subject on purpose.

"You boys have been expelled again?" asked Gerald. The sheepish nod both boys gave as they hung their heads gave him and everyone else at the table their answer to the question. "Now, I can't imagine your mother being too happy about that," he chuckled, "but then again, I suppose you're not the type to take to book learning."

"No, sir. That's true," Stuart answered with what Rhett could only define as misplaced pride.

"I know you two don't care about being expelled, or Tom either," Scarlett continued. "But what about Boyd? He's kind of set on getting an education, and you two have pulled him out of the University of Virginia and Alabama and South Carolina and now Georgia. He'll never get finished at this rate."

"Oh, he can read law in Judge Parmalee's office over in Fayetteville," answered Brent carelessly. "Besides, it don't matter much. We'd have had to come home before the term was out anyway."

"Why?" asked Scarlett with a curious look on her face.

"The war!" said Brent.

"The war is bound to start any day," added Stuart.

With the subject of the war back on the table like a fresh pitcher of water, Scarlett once again jumped it to remove it. "So Pa, how are they all over at Twelve Oaks?"

"Oh, in the stew you'd expect with the barbeque tomorrow," answered Gerald.

"Was anybody there?" Scarlett asked, looking to draw Gerald further into the conversation, while she cast a sidelong look at Rhett, who had been staring at her appreciatively throughout the discourse.

"Oh, Ashley, India and Honey, of course, and their cousins Charles and Melanie Hamilton of Atlanta."

"Oh, Scarlett! Haven't you heard?" interjected Suellen. "Ashley's engagement to Melanie is to be announced tomorrow. What do you think about that?"

Rhett's eyes, which had traveled to Suellen and Frank, rebounded to Scarlett with that statement. Did she have a fancy for this Ashley fellow?

"Why, Suellen? What would that matter to me?" asked Scarlett, drilling her eyes right through Suellen.

"Oh, you've been sweet on Ashley for months and he isn't returning your affection. He's sweet on Melanie, so there!"

"That's enough, Suellen," admonished Mrs. O'Hara. "Behave yourself and act like the young lady you are. We have guests."

Suellen wiggled in her chair and wrinkled her nose at Scarlett before sticking out her tongue at her sister. Scarlett dismissed her sister with her eyes and simply raised her goblet of water to her lips while looking around the table with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Well, Mr. Butler, Mr. Kennedy, you must accompany us to the barbeque at the Wilkes' plantation, Twelve Oaks, tomorrow. You'll stay overnight here. Mammy will you see to their rooms?" Gerald raised his eyes to Mammy, who stood by the kitchen door. She nodded and excused herself from the room to carry out his request. There was no question implied in his request. It was assumed that both men would agree to the invitation and that would be that.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Hara…Thank you," stammered Frank.

"Yes, by all means. Thank you, Mr. O'Hara. But our things—" started Rhett.

"I'll send a boy to Jonesboro to pick up your things. There! Now 'tis settled," finished Gerald.

Rhett added smoothly. "Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated."

When dinner was finished, Gerald invited Frank and Rhett into the parlor for whiskey and cigars. Rhett trudged into the parlor with leaden feet after noticing Scarlett start for the front door with a shawl over her shoulders. He thought Frank wanted time with Suellen. And, now, he wanted some time with this charming girl. When would they get their moment, he wondered.

"Going somewhere, Miss O'Hara?" Rhett asked as she passed him, leaving behind a faint scent of lavender.

"I thought I'd take a stroll," she replied, turning her green eyes to his black ones as she stood at the front door, opening it wide. "It is a lovely evening, don't you think?"

"Oh, to be sure, Miss O'Hara." He took a few steps toward the door. "In fact, you make a walk sound so appealing that I thought—"

"Mr. Butler! Mr. Butler!" shouted Gerald, his face ruddy and his voice ragged. He was clearly out of breath as he entered the foyer where Scarlett and Rhett stood. "Ah, there you are! I found me a bottle of twenty-five-year old Irish whiskey from the cellar. We'll open this tonight, my lad, and we'll see what kind of constitution ye have." Gerald winked at Rhett and waved him into the parlor where Frank was already waiting.

Rhett turned to look at him, then back again at Scarlett, before finally turning to Gerald and giving him a nod. "I'll be right there, sir."

"It's a shame, no? Men always gather for whiskey and cigars, leaving the women to their own devices when there is really so much to be shared, don't you think, Mr. Butler?" Scarlett asked. She threw him a dazzling smile, deepening her dimples, and stepped onto the front porch. There, she was bathed in the last visage of the day's sunlight. Rhett thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful or sound so suggestive and innocent at the same time. Once again, he felt a familiar stirring in his lower region.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss O'Hara. However, all may not be lost. Perhaps I see you again tonight?"

"Perhaps. But in case I don't, I'll bid you a good night now, sir."

"Well, thank you, but if you don't mind, I'll save my good night for later. Until then." Rhett watched Scarlett O'Hara walk across the porch and skip lightly down the front steps, and then he turned and strode into the parlor where Gerald, Frank and a bottle of Irish whiskey awaited.

**A/N – Thank you, thank you for all your enthusiastic reviews. I'll be away from the computer next week so I wanted to get this update to you before I leave. Then, give me a week or so for the next update. Chapter 3 will probably the first week of August. ******


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Getting Acquainted

Rhett headed out the front door and ambled down the porch steps. The sun had just set and the sky was a mixture of pink, red, yellow and orange, bright colors that provided the light he needed to seek the mysterious girl that he believed was out here somewhere. Since he first laid his eyes on Scarlett O'Hara that evening, he found that he could think of little else. Something about her struck him at his core. He wasn't foolish enough to believe in love at first sight, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not deny that something drew him to her that he couldn't fight and frankly, he didn't even care to. So, he sought her out by moonlight. Since she left the house, he had kept an eye on the front foyer in case she returned; she didn't or at least, he didn't catch sight of her. He realized she might have snuck in the back door again. Perhaps she was out in the moonlight with a beau, but he didn't think that was the case either. So, he meandered down the drive, looking to his left and right until he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. He found Scarlett sitting on a swing that hung from one of the branches of an enormous oak tree, one of many actually that lined the driveway leading to Tara. He approached her stealthy, watching her swing ever so slowly, obviously lost in her thoughts. She leaned back then, nearly laying flat across the swing, and gazed up to the heavens, looking as if she relished the breeze in her hair, the cool air caressing her face and the freedom of flight. She drank in the darkness and the stars, swinging back and forth with total abandon.

"What a surprise to find you here," he said softly as he walked up to her.

She wasn't startled, but turned to look at him as if she was expecting him at this appointed time. "Surprise? Why the only surprise is that you escaped from my father's little celebration this early _and_ sober. That's amazing. Usually, his drinking sojourns last well into the wee hours." She was sitting upright in the swing, then wavering languorously and leaning backwards occasionally, as she held tight to the heavy ropes.

"I don't know if I deserve any credit. It was really all Mr. Kennedy's doing actually." Rhett sat down on a nearby rock and initiated a conversation as though he had known her for years.

"Frank? What did he do?"

"Well, he raised his glass with us in a toast, threw back your father's aged whiskey with a quick flick of the wrist and immediately dropped to the floor," Rhett explained blandly as he idly removed a cigar from his jacket pocket.

"What? Are you telling me that Frank passed out?" Scarlett was so startled she sat upright and put her feet on the ground, stopping her movement.

"I believe that would be the technically correct way of putting it, yes," Rhett said, crossing his legs and lighting a match on the bottom of his boot.

"Was Suellen there?"

"The last I saw her, she was kneeling on the floor fanning poor Frank. It was at that point, I suggested to your father that we make it an early evening in light of the festivities tomorrow."

Scarlett didn't know this man so she tried to suppress the laughter that was bubbling to her lips, but all she had to do was imagine her sister kneeling beside old Frank and she exploded with giggles. Rhett blew out a puff of smoke and smiled back at her, enjoying the pretty, carefree picture she made and he couldn't help but chuckle, too.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she finally was able to squeak out. "Frank is your friend."

"Don't be sorry. Frank Kennedy is a business associate that I met last evening, nothing more. I know little of him or him of me, but I was there and the scene was quite amusing, if I do say so myself. So tell me about this barbeque tomorrow." He captured his bended knee in his two hands and leaned back, enjoying the company of this charming young woman and suddenly he was glad that he would be staying the night and attending the barbeque tomorrow.

"Oh, it will be wonderful. There will be plenty to eat, plenty to drink, the utmost in hospitality. Twelve Oaks is famous throughout the county for its hospitality, thanks to John Wilkes."

"Hmm, and how does the esteemed Ashley Wilkes, who was mentioned at dinner, fit into the puzzle?"

"He's John Wilkes' son. Mr. Wilkes is a widower. He has a son, Ashley, and two daughters, India and Honey."

"Ah, yes…I heard mention of Honey earlier."

"Oh, really? From who?"

"Nevermind, it was nothing. So this Ashley is to announce his engagement tomorrow to a, what was her name?"

"Melanie Hamilton."

"Yes, that's it. Your sister seemed to think there is something between you two…Which reminds me, where are your redheaded beaux?"

"Oh, Stuart and Brent? They left through the back door right after supper. They have to devise a way to explain their expulsion from school to their mother. I wouldn't put it past her to take a whip to them."

"They didn't strike me as the smartest whips in the shed."

"They just aren't cut out for learning what's in books. Not everyone is. That doesn't mean they are any less of a person. They both have the kindest hearts and—and—"

"Forgive me, I meant no offense. You're absolutely right, Miss O'Hara, not everyone is cut out to earn an advanced degree and climb the ladder of academia. But you'd think that after being expelled from, how many universities did you say, no matter how ignorant they are, someone would pick up on that clue by now."

"You are pretty high and mighty, aren't you, sir?"

"Don't ruffle your feathers. I simply say what I think and something tells me that you are quite similar. So, now back to my question: Is your sister correct in her assumption? Do you carry a torch for Mr. Ashley Wilkes?" He didn't know why he was pursuing this line of questioning; it shouldn't really be of any consequence to him either way. Tomorrow evening he'd be heading back to Charleston and he would never see her again. Nevertheless, he hung on her answer.

"He was a beau of mine, yes, just like Stuart and Brent." She felt an odd little pang in her heart when she unconsciously used the past tense to describe her relationship with Ashley. Wasn't he still her beau? Didn't she want him to be her fiancé and not Melanie's?

"So do you make it a habit to collect beaux from all around the county and now you're seeking to extend your reach?" He was scrutinizing her face now, relying on what was left of the streaks lining the evening sky and the moonlight to illuminate her features.

"Oh, you make it sound so nasty. No, I don't but, but—"

"So, he was a beau. He must have been the one that got away, hmmm? So it must bother you that he is going to marry someone else."

"It doesn't bother me, it is just that—that—"

"Pray, tell, Miss O'Hara," he said, hanging on her response.

"It just came as a surprise, that's all." She didn't know what else to say and moreover, she couldn't quite describe what she felt. This afternoon when she heard the news, she was devastated by the revelation, but now, it didn't seem to tear at her heart the way it did earlier.

"Ah, so it does bother you. Well, that will certainly make the day more interesting tomorrow," he added with a smirk. "Oh, I owe you a debt of gratitude for so artfully weaving the topic of conversation at supper away from the war."

"Oh, you don't have to thank me. If I hear anyone mention war just one more time, I think I'll scream," said Scarlett, pushing off on the swing again.

"I take it you and I have different opinions on why the topic needed to be changed."

"I don't know about that," she said, ignoring his implication, "but I do know that all this war talk is spoiling every party this spring. I get so bored with it all. I take it you're not bored with all the war talk—"

"Correct, Miss O'Hara, that's not why I was grateful you changed the subject—"

"You just think we're going to get licked and you were afraid that you'd end up making a scene and spoiling supper this evening," she said, cutting him off.

"Well, aren't you intuitive. Is this an acquired skill or a natural born talent? But you're right. Now are you sure I won't offend your sensibilities? If not, I'll talk frankly."

"No, you won't offend me." She stopped swinging again, intrigued by this man who didn't seem to take affront at her dismissing all the talk of war. In fact, he seemed to have similar ideas in that he wasn't shouting, "For the Cause! For the Cause! States Rights by God!" like her father did day and night, night and day.

"Good. Well, then you're right. The Yankees have everything going for them, whereas, us Southerners, we think cotton is king and nothing can befall us. We're all wrong. The politicians are feeding the populace a bunch of pretty speeches that sound good, but mean absolutely nothing and the people are gullible enough to believe them and they are sucked in to think the war is some just and holy cause. Most of the ills of the world were caused by war. It is not glorious. It is all about dirt, dysentery and death. Nothing more."

"You don't mean we're going to get licked?"

"Pardon me, is that what I just implied?" he asked innocently, his hand on his heart.

"Stop making fun of me. What you just said scares me," said Scarlett, alarm written all over her face.

"You should be scared. Everyone else should be scared, too, but they're not. That is what makes this a pitiful situation. But, let's speak of something more pleasant, shall we?" He spoke so blithely, so calmly of the devastation to come and his prediction, which made sense even to Scarlett, scared her out of her wits.

"Yes, please. What business do you have with Frank Kennedy?" She was ever so glad to change the subject.

"The same business I have with your father. I'm purchasing some rather large supplies of cotton. I have some contacts with the textile mills in England that I'll be selling it to."

"I see." Scarlett had always taken an interest in the cotton produced at Tara, she loved seeing what Tara—a piece of land that her father had acquired with sheer tenacity and a bit of luck—could produce if nurtured. She loved Tara as nothing else and it made her proud to think that someone came here to purchase its bounty.

"Do you? There are many women who feign interest in business only to flatter a man's ego. Relatively few actually do have a head for business. Which category do you fall into?"

She chose to ignore his question and carried through the conversation. "Mr. Butler, these mills in England, _will_ you be selling them the cotton or do you _hope_ to sell them the cotton?"

"You've given me your answer, thank you. Now, I'll return the favor. I _hope_ to sell them the cotton."

"You're taking a pretty big risk then, hmmm? What kind of businessman are you? A smart one or a stupid one?"

"Neither, Miss O'Hara. I'm a gambler, pure and simple. I see a chance where I can make a killing whether it is in a card game or business; I analyze the situation and weigh the potential return versus the risk. In this situation, I feel that the risk is slight and well worth the effort I'm expending."

They sat for a moment in silence as Rhett blew lazy smoke rings in the air while Scarlett swayed back and forth on the swing. He took in the sight fully from the tips of her tiny green slippers to the top of her raven-haired head. She was petite, but curvaceous with a face that he found endlessly intriguing to watch. It was a face that demanded attention. A face that made anyone who passed her on the street turn around for a second look. It was perfection in its beauty, which was far from classic, but nevertheless eye-catching in its artful display of black brows and sooty lashes against the pale white skin, accented by pouty, red lips. But what he found so arresting was her eyes, which were a shade of green he had never seen before. Yes, she was a girl that a man could spend hours gazing at, and that was just her face. There was still so much more that he would have loved to explore that he should his head pensively when he remembered that upon meeting her he had mistaken her for a boy. Finally, it was Rhett who broke the quiet. "Now, let me ask you a question."

"I can't promise that I'll answer it Mr. Butler, but you're free to ask," she replied slyly with a smile that teased him with a glimpse of her dimples.

"Why were you riding today dressed like a street urchin?" He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees anxious to hear her response.

"Oh, don't you know the answer to that one?" This time it was her turn to laugh. "You know as well as I do that a girl just can't take off on a horse and ride like a man. No, if I wanted to ride, I would have to put on my _proper_ black riding habit, my _proper_ riding hat and my _proper_ riding gloves. Then, I'd have to ride sidesaddle as is _proper_," she hissed, mimicking the stern schoolmarm that taught her etiquette at the Fayetteville Female Academy.

"And you're tired of being proper," Rhett prompted. He knew there was something in her demeanor that drew him to her and now he had confirmation of it. She was as restless and felt as confined as he did in their self-imprisoned Southern society, maybe more so.

"I don't know if it is that I'm tired of being proper, it is just that—Oh, I don't know…" Scarlett wanted to open up to him but she was at a loss as to how to explain how she felt. How could she possibly put into words what she was feeling? Moreover, she knew it wasn't acceptable to say such things to a complete stranger. He looked at her eagerly, obviously interested in what she had to say. It came as a surprise to her that he wasn't shocked. If truth were told, even the Tarleton twins would have been aghast at her admission and Ashley, why, he would find what she had just said abhorrent. Yet, here was this stranger sitting across from her and he wasn't chastising her and he didn't laugh at her. In fact, he didn't seem like a stranger at all. His eyes, so black, were warm and she thought she noticed a flame flickering in their depths and wondered curiously what it was.

"Why all the dirt and grime? Were you afraid of your parents or your mammy discovering your secret?"

It would feel good to unburden herself to someone and he wouldn't tell anyone, she was sure of it. "Pa wouldn't really care but Mother and Mammy, well, they wouldn't have liked it at all. My mother is a very great lady."

"I could tell. I remember her. Her sisters, your Aunts Pauline and Eulalie are my mother's dear friends in Charleston. I remember hearing of your mother from the three of them and of course, I believe I met her once, too, years ago."

"She has very high standards. She is the kindest, most wonderful mother anyone could ever ask for. She manages Tara, oversees just about everything and takes care of Pa and my sisters and me. She—"

"And she wouldn't like it if you went out riding astride?" he finished. It was a question, but it came out as a statement of fact.

Scarlett hesitated in answering. If she spoke the truth, it would be sacrilege to her mother yet she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "No, she wouldn't have liked it at all," she whispered, her eyes focused on her lap.

Rhett digested her words, looking down at the ground between his feet. What a shame! What a waste! This society they lived in repressed women to the point of sucking all the life out of them. In the south where women were revered for their beauty, their gaiety, their dainty ways and exquisite manners, many women walked through life as empty shells that at one time, in their girlhood, overflowed with promise, enthusiasm and passion. The rules of ladylike decorum weren't as strict up north, but nevertheless, even in Yankee territory, rules governing propriety still existed. He could not believe what a low premium society placed on a female naturalness, so women pretended to be happy, pretended to be interested, pretended to be restrained, pretended to live when in fact, most were dead inside. This girl was different. She was alive and vibrant, more so than any woman he had ever met. Would society douse the fire that he saw blazing in her emerald green eyes? He had just met this girl and yet he knew he couldn't let that happen, wouldn't let it happen before he had enjoyed more of her.

"May I ask you a favor?"

"Hmmm."

"Would you go riding with me tomorrow morning?"

"Riding? But we have the barbeque tomorrow morning."

"Let's meet really early, say just before sunrise. What do you say?" His voice was silky and Scarlett felt a tingle of excitement in having attracted this handsome man.

"I don't know…"

"Come on, you can even wear that get-up you had on today if you're afraid that you'll get caught. Just skip the dirt and the stench. I'm sure we could both do without that."

"Well, all right." She threw him a bright smile and was rewarded with a smile just as dazzling from him. In fact, his smile threw her, which was odd since she was normally so confident in her charms. But this time, she realized that although he was undoubtedly attracted to her, the playing field wasn't the same as it was in her games of flirtation with the County boys. For the difference was just that. He was a man and they were boys. Moreover, she felt herself irrestibly drawn to him, which put her at a distinct disadvantage and she had the unnerving feeling that he knew it.

"Thank you. That gives me something to look forward to."

"Me, too," she admitted eagerly, momentarily forgetting her training to play coy with gentlemen, never revealing too much. Realizing she may have overstepped her bounds, her face grew passive and she spoke softly: "It's late, I should be getting back."

"_Should?"_

"I _want_ to start back." She dimpled again for him at his jibe. "I have an early date tomorrow morning."

"Miss O'Hara, I'll tell you something. You're a girl of rare spirit. I don't presume to know the size of your ego, but I'll feed it anyway. There aren't many girls around like you."

"Why thank you, Mr. Butler. I appreciate the compliment."

"Can't we dispense with these formalities, Scarlett? You may call me Rhett."

The evening was quiet save for a medley of crickets that chatted quietly amongst themselves. The only other sound was the crunching of gravel as they made their way back up the driveway to the house. Rhett's voice was soft and drawling and he seemed to savor her name, letting it linger on his tongue, like he would a fine wine. This was not how her name sounded when her family called out to her, nor was it the way her many beaux whispered her name. To Scarlett's ear, his utterance seemed somehow quite intimate and a shiver ran down her spine. "My parents still address each other formally, Mr. Butler. But, I do want to thank you for your company and for walking me back to the house, but now, I'll bid you good night."

They had arrived at the front door and Rhett opened it for Scarlett to walk inside. "So, I'll see you at the stables the, at sunrise—Scarlett?"

"Yes, Mr. Butler."

"Good night, Scarlett."

"Good night, Mr. Butler."

"Oh, wait a minute!" They had walked into the front hall and no one appeared to be about. "Would you show me where I'm to stay for the night?"

"That's strange, I wonder where everyone is?" Scarlett murmured aloud as her eyes scanned the front parlor, office and dining rooms, before coming to rest again on Rhett standing at her side. "Of course, I'm not sure where they put your things. I guess we'll just have to nose around upstairs."

Scarlett had just started up the stairs with Rhett at her heels when a voice came out of the dark, startling them both. "Miss Scarlett!" shouted Mammy. "Wut you think you're doin' takin' a man upstairs? 'Ain't fittin' no it ain't!"

"Mammy, I'm merely showing Mr. Butler where he is to stay for the night. He is ready to retire and it appears no one is here to show him his quarters. Where is everyone?" Scarlett paused on the stairs and spoke to Mammy over the banister.

"Your ma is nursin' that poor white trash Emmy Slattery and your pa is settlin' accounts with the overseer. Miss Suellen and Miss Careen have retired for the evenin' and Mr. Kennedy, well, he…"

"Yes, I can imagine," finished Scarlett. "Where did Mother put Mr. Kennedy? What room has she reserved for Mr. Butler?"

"Mr. Kennedy is in de room at the top of de stairs and Mr. Butler's things are in de room next to his."

"Fine, Mammy, thank you. Then, I'll help Mr. Butler get settled." Scarlett started back up the stairs with Rhett one step behind her.

"No you ain't," Mammy called to her. "I don't care wut you say Miss Scarlett, it ain't fittin'. 'An where have you been all evenin'? Your ma was worried about you and when Mr. Butler went missin' we didn't know wut to think."

"Mammy, I was swinging in the front yard when Mr. Butler wandered outside after Mr. Kennedy's…er…mishap. That's all. Now, I won't hear anything else. With Mother and Pa detained, I'm head of the household and I will show Mr. Butler to his room. Heavens, Mammy! Where is your hospitality?"

"I don't care what you say, it ain't fittin', it just ain't fittin'," grumbled Mammy as she moved off down the hall, then stopped and watched Scarlett and Rhett continue up the stairs.

"I apologize, Mr. Butler," she said, then turning to him, she continued in a stage whisper. "You can see what I'm up against."

"Indeed I can. Hmmm, I suspect Mammy thinks I'm up to go good."

"That's might be true, but she also keeps me under lock and key."

"And me, here without a lock pick," Rhett said forlornly.

Choosing to ignore his last comment, Scarlett continued down the hall. "Here we are." Scarlett opened a door in the upstairs hallway and strode into a bedroom, lighting a lamp on the bedside table, which brought the room to life. The four-poster bed was made of cherry and was covered in a white, hand-crocheted bedspread. Her eyes fell on the bed and she froze in mid-thought. No maiden should be alone in a bedroom with a strange man—any man! Just why that should be, Scarlett did not really know. Her mother spoken to her on more than one occasion about what a man and a woman did in the marital bed. The images those talks had conjured up in Scarlett's mind were revolting. Having grown up on a farm, Scarlett was not ignorant of how animals mated and the thought that she'd have to submit to the same type of brutal treatment that she witnessed in the stables and in the pasture was disgusting, so when she thought of marriage, her dreams often went only as far as picking out her trousseau and enjoying the compliments and admiration of guests at the wedding reception where she was the center of attention. Now, she was in a bedroom with this man who was undeniably male. Had she been standing alongside Frank Kennedy, she wouldn't have given the situation a second thought, but she wasn't standing with Frank Kennedy. She was standing alongside a man, who in his stature, mannerisms, voice and scent was all male. He looked like a man of lusty appetites and Scarlett suddenly felt a tightening in her stomach. When she regained control of senses, she looked up, only to find Rhett staring at her intently with a grin on his face. In turn, she blushed a deep crimson and as her face reddened, she felt heat rushing up from her neckline and blowing onto her face as if she had just opened an oven door with a roaring fire.

She quickly averted her eyes without lingering on his and turned to indicate Rhett's valise that sat upon an orate trunk at the foot of the bed. "I see that your things have arrived from the Jonesboro Hotel," she said, silently cursing herself when she heard her voice quiver. "Here are some fresh towels and I'll send Rosa up with some water if you'd like."

"I'll be all set. Thank you, Scarlett—for everything." He said what any grateful traveler would say in appreciation for the accommodations, but the way he said it seemed to infer much more.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked as she moved to the door.

"Just your promise that you'll meet me in the morning at the stables." He held out his hand to take hers and when she withheld it, he reached for her hand that was hidden in her skirt and was going to give it a gentle kiss it, but stopped short. The moment their fingers touched, Rhett lost his train of thought as his heart started beating so powerfully he could hear his blood rushing through his veins. The touch did not leave Scarlett unfazed either for suddenly the balmy temperature of the April evening soared to levels typical of Georgia's hot and steamy August.

"Yes, that will be fine. Good night, Mr. Butler." Her voice was shaky and she disengaged her fingers from his.

"Good night, Scarlett."

When the door closed and Rhett was alone, he sank onto the bed. Scarlett was no more than eighteen years old, maybe younger, he guessed. Yet, she exuded a sensuality of which she undoubtedly was unaware. He snickered at himself for allowing this young thing to bewitch him as she had surely done and for a brief second, he pondered the wisdom of pursuing the relationship for a minute longer. She undoubtedly was a virgin who was raised to be married. Yet, she was also one to break the rules and with a little encouragement and a little effort, he realized he could bed her fairly easily. But then what? He had no intention of marrying the girl, but oh, how he wanted her, he sighed, as he pulled off his boots and lay down on the bed.

This little side trip to Clayton County may be profitable in more ways than one, thought Rhett Butler, as he folded his arms behind his head with a self-satisfied smile on his swarthy face. Scarlett knew her mind. She could make her own decisions and if he chose to pursue a dalliance tomorrow, who would it hurt? Either way, he'd be in Atlanta tomorrow night and on a train to Charleston shortly after that.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Sunrise at the Stables

Rhett woke early and well before dawn was making his way quietly through a slumbering Tara. Only a few soft murmurs could be heard from the kitchen where the smell of coffee brewing and bread baking drifted through the house, making Rhett wonder if he'd be better off lingering around for a leisurely breakfast or heading out to the stables in the off chance Scarlett was going to keep her promise and meet him there.

As good as the coffee, bread and now bacon smelled, Rhett decided he could eat those anytime, but Scarlett, well, she was something he had to enjoy in the moment for she was part of the local cuisine and this evening he'd be gone and she'd be but a memory. He left out the front door, feeling it better to depart this way to avoid raising any suspicion among the servants working in the kitchen. He made the trek around back to the stables and saw no sign of anyone about. It was still dark and his footsteps sounded ominous as he neared the entrance to the stables. He pulled the door open and in the quiet of daybreak, it made a squeaking noise so loud that he feared he had inadvertently aroused all the neighbors living within five miles of Tara.

"Well, it is about time you arrived. I was worried that you had forgotten our appointment," said Scarlett, who was somewhere in the darkness. As dark as it was outside, the moon still shone slightly, so the barn was even darker and it took a moment for Rhett's eyes to become accustomed to his surroundings. When they did, he saw Scarlett saddling up the horse she had been riding yesterday.

"I never forget a promise, especially to a lady as lovely as yourself," he drawled, walking up to her. "Sleep well?" She was dressed in garb similar to what she was wearing when he had met her. She wore a chambray shirt, open at the neck with its sleeves rolled up slightly. It was tucked into a pair of khaki trousers that were cinched at her waist with what looked to be some twine. The trousers, too, were rolled up slightly as they, like the shirt, were apparently too big on her. Her boots were obviously her own as they fit her tiny feet perfectly. Like the day prior, she wore a hat, but this time, her hair was gathered in a ribbon at her nape and hung down her back in a mass of dark curls. When he neared her, she looked up at him with a luminous smile, her eyes bright and sparkling for so early in the morning.

"How I slept is of no consequence to you, sir. Now, if you want to go riding, we best get along before the entire plantation is up and about."

"As you say, my lady," Rhett waved, indicating that she should lead the way.

"Meet Sumter," she said, indicating the horse she had ridden yesterday, "and this is Dublin. You'll be riding him today. My father brought him over from Ireland. His cousins breed horses there."

"Really," replied Rhett, stroking the neck of the black stallion that stood before him. "He's quite a handsome horse."

"That he is. Fast, too."

"I'm impressed. Typically when I'm lent a horse for a ride, I get something akin to a mule. Certainly, never a horse like this boy." Rhett was clearly taken with the animal and admiration colored his dark eyes blacker.

"Really? I would venture to say that your past riding companions were unsure of their equestrian skills, so they deliberately put you at a disadvantage."

"And my equestrian skills intimidated them?"

"Perhaps, yes."

"But you're not intimated by what you perceive to be my talents at horsemanship?"

"No."

"Well, you may be right. I can be quite clumsy on a horse."

"Oh, Mr. Butler, I highly doubt that. I'd venture to say that you are bluffing, which leads me to believe that you are not only an excellent rider, but a shrewd poker player, a keen shot and, hmm," she continued, eyeing him up and down, "I'm guessing you're quite the lady's man, as well."

He nearly choked with laughter at her statement. "You are making a lot of assumptions, Scarlett, and I suppose we'll have to examine each of them independently to ascertain if you are indeed as correct as you think you are."

"Oh, fiddle dee dee! Are we going to spend the entire morning talking or did you want to ride?" She put her foot into the stirrup and swung her other leg over Sumter's back. At that precise moment, Rhett couldn't help but notice the shapely outline of her legs and backside for as she took her seat, the fabric of her trousers pulled over so slightly over her thigh and higher, accentuating the high, firm roundness of her bottom as she settled into the saddle. "Are you ready or are you just going to stand there?"

Her voice shook him out of his daze and he nodded, somewhat embarrassed, as he took his seat on Dublin's back. Not since he was a gangling adolescent had he found himself so taken with a woman. For years he had prided himself on his self-reliance, charm and ease with which he dealt with the fairer sex. Of course, he had few dealings of late with nice girls. Due to his travels, various social constraints and his aversion to matrimony, he usually steered clear of proper young ladies and had preferred to turn to women of looser moral standings who offered their charms to him free and clear of any bonds. Well, free wasn't perhaps the correct word, for many were quite expensive, but still there were no ties, no bonds, no obligations and he came and went as he felt like it. Now, faced with an educated, proper young lady, who was beautiful beyond belief, he felt out of his depth but nevertheless, waded bravely into the pool.

"Ready?" Scarlett asked just as he took the reigns. He nodded and with that she was off at a gallop, Rhett prompting Dublin to follow Sumter's lead. Once out of the stable, Scarlett tore over the unplanted field adjacent to the house. Sumter ran at full speed and not knowing what Dublin was capable of, at first, Rhett held him somewhat at bay. When he found himself falling far behind Scarlett, he urged Dublin on at full speed and in no time, they were near enough to Scarlett for Rhett to see her profile in the rising sun. There was a look of abandonment on her face. She smiled and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Her hat at long since fallen off and her strands of her hair had come loose and blew about her face. But nothing seemed to matter—the missing hat, the distracting hair whipping over her eyes or the wind in her face—for at that moment, all she thought of was the speed at which she rode, the freedom she felt and her love of the land that surrounded her. Rhett gazed ahead and as far as he could see were rolling hills of newly planted cotton; neat little furrows of green seedlings rising from the red soil. The land was languid, at rest and seemingly rolled on forever into the horizon, ending only where the sun was rising over the land.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Scarlett shouted to him over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Everything! Isn't Tara beautiful?" She had slowed for a moment to gauge his response and once she saw him nod approvingly, she drove Sumter onto new heights. Crouching low in her saddle, she raced ahead where Rhett saw a split rail fence obstructing her path. Without a moment's hesitation, she cleared the hurdle with ease and Rhett found himself working hard to keep up with this enigmatic girl and his admiration for her grew. Rhett, too, cleared the fence and they continued along a dusty, untraveled road for some time, then meandered down a steep trail that led to the woods and eventually, to what Rhett would learn was the Flint River.

"We can rest the horses here for a bit," she told him as she climbed down from Sumter and led the horse to the river for a drink.

"When you ride, you really ride."

"Have a problem keeping up?" She threw him a dazzling smile and Rhett, already winded from the ride, felt his heart skip a beat. If he thought she was beautiful before, now she was absolutely breathtaking. Even dressed in boys garb, this woman was an eclectic mixture of vixen, adventurer, spoiled child and seductress. Did she realize what she was doing to him? God, how he wanted her.

"Not for one moment, Scarlett. But now I do understand why you gave me a racehorse and not some workhorse accustomed to plowing the fields."

They both stood at the river while their horses drank and Scarlett tiptoed down the bank to a sandy area where she bent down, filled her hand with cool, clear water and brought it to her lips. Rhett did the same and then, they climbed the bank again and sat in companionable silence while their horses rested.

"You love the county, don't you?" Rhett asked her as he settled himself on a fallen tree trunk.

"Oh, yes! There's nothing like Tara in the whole world," she said, idly picking up a wildflower that bloomed near the rock on which she sat.

"That's saying a lot. I wager you haven't traveled far a field of Tara. Isn't that true?"

"No! Why I was at Saratoga and I've been in Savannah!"

"A little provincial, aren't we?"

"What?"

"Nevermind, I'm just saying that although Saratoga and Savannah are lovely places to visit, you haven't exactly traveled to the ends of the earth and back to make such an all-encompassing statement."

"How dare you!"

"Now stop right there. I'm not insulting you. I'm only saying that a girl with your spirit for adventure and love for the land, which I can plainly see in your eyes, should see the world. You would love London, Paris, Amsterdam, Rome, Nassau and Havana. Why, the world is at your doorstep, you need only to open the door and step through.

"I can see you dining on the Champs-Élysées or having tea with Queen Victoria. Or, how about sailing down the Danube or, hmm, swimming in the Mediterranean?"

"Have you done all these things?" Scarlett asked, clearly astonished at the mention of so many places, some of which she admittedly never even heard of but they sounded exciting nonetheless.

"Many of them, yes, except for having tea with the Queen. I haven't found the time to fit her into my date book just yet," Rhett replied, smothering a grin. "Do you desire to do these things?"

"I guess I never thought about it. Sure, I'd like to travel outside of Georgia, but I really haven't dwelled on it. I've heard about placed like Texas and California and oh, I'd love to go to New Orleans, but—I don't know." She sat quietly, picking the leaves off of her wildflower and tossing them into the grass before adding thoughtfully: "Sometimes I wish I were a man."

"For heaven's sake, why?" It wasn't the first time that day when Scarlett's utterance took Rhett totally by surprise.

"Because you can do all these things. Come and go as you please. A man has freedom to do exactly as he wants."

"You could do it too—as a woman—with enough courage and you should go to all these places. Just think about the adventures a non-conformist like yourself could have there."

"A non what?"

"A non-conformist. Someone who doesn't do what everyone else does or says you should do."

"And are you an non-conformist?"

"Yes, I can proudly say that I am. My father expected me to fit into polite Charleston society and I couldn't do it, so he cast me out. I made my living on a riverboat and traveled out to California's gold fields in '49. I've seen a lot in my travels and I expect to see far more. I'm traveling back and forth to England quite a bit right now and will do so more often once the War starts."

"And do you do all this traveling…umm…alone?"

"Alone?" he raised his eyebrows at her question. "Why, yes. I often find it best to travel unencumbered, but it does get a bit lonely now and again. It is a nice thought to be able to share my travels with someone who appreciates it and loves adventure as much as I do," he explained thoughtfully, casting a sidelong glance at Scarlett to observe her reaction to his words.

"Have you ever been in love?" Scarlett asked boldly, effectively changing the subject. She even surprised herself. She was accustomed to playing her role of the coy ingénue. No lady ever asked such blatant questions of man she barely knew. Why it wasn't done, yet Scarlett did it and she didn't even hesitate to cover her mouth at her error of speech or blush at its personal nature.

"What a leading question! I see subtlety is not your strong suit." Yes, Rhett liked this girl. She didn't pussyfoot around like most women did. She came right out and said what she thought and he found it immensely refreshing. "Have I ever been in love? Hmm, I suppose that depends on what you interpret as love. In like or in lust, surely, but that heart-stopping, breathtaking kind of love where you think of one special woman all day and all night, you live for her and you can't get her out of your mind; the type of love that Shakespeare or the Brontë sisters write of, then no. I can't say that I've ever felt like that. What about you?"

"Hmm, I thought I was in love, but it certainly wasn't like you just described," she answered slowly, then added even more thoughtfully, "If that is love, then no." Their conversation fell silent while both sat quietly for a few moments, looking at the grass, the river, the horses, the sky, anything but each other. Scarlett was surprised that she admitted what was in her heart to a relative stranger. At this point yesterday, she was convinced that she was totally in love with Ashley Wilkes. Somehow, somewhere that had all changed and she realized her infatuation with Ashley for what it was, an idealized romantic dream of a fourteen-year old child. It bothered her only slightly to cast off that dream, much like she cast off old clothes that had gone out of style or had grown too small. Scarlett was the first to break the silence.

"We should be going. It's getting late." She got up from her resting place and climbed up into Sumter's saddle and started out of the woods with Rhett following closely on Dublin. Together, they fell into an easy trot.

"But you've been in like or should I say, in lust, with Ashley Wilkes?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious about my competition at today's barbeque."

"Your competition?"

"Yes, who will I have to compete with today for your company at the barbeque?"

"I am not a thing that can be won in a competition, Mr. Butler," said Scarlett firmly with a stern expression on her face.

"Oh, no!" he roared with laughter. "Come now, Scarlett. Tell the truth. You highly enjoy having men clamor for your favors and don't deny it. And someday, I hope to prove it to you."

"So are you asking me for a dance at tonight's ball?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I'm not."

"You're what! Why you…!" She couldn't think of anything she could call him, but to think he was leading her on, flirting with her when, when—

"I can't ask for a dance, although I would love to dance with you. But I'm afraid, I have to leave for Atlanta this afternoon. I won't be staying for the ball this evening."

"Oh." Her voice fell as did her eyes.

"Dare I hope that you are disappointed?"

"Oh, don't presume!"

"Ah, well, I must admit, I'm sorely disappointed. I bet you're a beautiful dancer."

"Well, I guess you will never know, will you?"

"Alas, no, I will never get a chance to find out. Unless…well…er…What is stopping us from having a dance here?"

"Are you mad? Have you lost your mind?" Either he was crazy or she was. At this point, she couldn't be quite sure which was the case.

He climbed down from his horse and looped the reigns around a tree. He sauntered up to her and stared up at her, extending his hand to help her dismount Sumter. She simply sat there for a moment, returning his stare with a look of incredulity when she ignored his hand and dismounted on her own but seemingly against her will. They stood face to face, neither speaking, eyes locked, then Rhett bowed from the waist and offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance?"

"You are crazy." This was different, entirely different from any encounter she had with a potential beau in the county. There was something about this that made Scarlett feel unsure, hesitant and yet ever so alive. With all the county boys, she could always predict what would happen. If she said thus and so, they would respond with this or that. Then, depending on which response they provided, she would use it as her cue to respond as she was so carefully taught by her mother and Mammy. This encounter was not anything like those. She could make no predictions. There was no rulebook to follow here. Her oft-rehearsed responses didn't even come into play. Her mind was frantically searching for a response—something that would be appropriate—but nothing came to her. He wasn't acting like any of the county boys and she couldn't tell where this was going and the feeling was both frightening and absolutely exhilarating. Her hands went hot, cold and clammy and she wiped them nervously on her pant legs. She nervously looked up at him. He was smiling as though delighted as her flurry.

"Not crazy, miss, merely captivated by your beauty." He was mocking her, but she felt sure there was a grain of truth to his assertion.

He took Sumter's reigns and secured them to the tree, then turned back to Scarlett. They stood literally toe-to-toe and the difference in their heights became obviously apparent. At more than six feet tall, he towered over her diminutive form, as she was a good foot shorter. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist and standing alongside Scarlett, in her masculine wardrobe, the odd pair resembled a young boy out with his father.

"Shall we?" Rhett extended his hand and leaned closer to put his arm around Scarlett's waist.

"What are you doing? We don't have music! We don't have—"

"You know," he said, removing his panama hat and dropping it on the ground before raking his fingers through his hair, "I wager you're stalling because you don't know how to dance," he teased. "I mean, look at you. I've seen you three times and on two of those occasions you've been wearing pants."

Scarlett looked down at herself and back up at him and she burst out laughing, then tilted her chin up proudly. "So, you think I can't dance. Is that it? Sir, well, I am usually accustomed to dancing with my finest ball gown and—"

"Yes, yes, spare me the long explanation," he replied impatiently with a chuckle. "If you can dance, it doesn't matter what you're wearing only that you have a skilled dancing partner who knows all the steps."

"And you're such a skilled dancer?" Scarlett asked with some skepticism.

"More than adequate, my dear. In fact, I'll even provide the music. Do you know the song, _Alice, Where Art Thou?_ No matter, I'll sing it anyway." And, so Rhett started to sing the first verse to the song in his deep baritone, as he slid his arm around Scarlett's waist and took her right hand in his. Once again, she was aware of the charge of electricity when their hands touched; the surge tingled up her arm and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Without having a skirt to hold up in her left hand, she placed it tentatively on his arm. It was as if this man's touch sparked her skin to heightened sensitivity and she cast her eyes down and moved to his steps as his voice lulled her as he sang.

_The birds sleeping gently,_

_Sweet Lyra gleameth bright;_

_Her rays tinge the forest,_

_And all seems glad tonight,_

_The wind's sighing by me,_

_Cooling my fever'd brow;_

_The stream flows as ever,_

_Yet Alice where art thou!_

_One year back this even,_

_And thou were by my side;_

_And thou wert by my side,_

_Vowing to love me,_

_One year past this even,_

_And thou wert by my side;_

_Vowing to love me_

_Alice what e'er might betide._

"Of course, I could substitute Scarlett for Alice. How would that be?" asked Rhett as the pair danced in the road as though they had danced together for years.

"You dance divinely, Mr. Butler."

"And, may I say that you are the most beautiful dancer I've ever held in my arms." His eyes ran over her appreciatively.

"Thank you, Mr. Butler."

Together, they both sang the second verse, their voices and steps becoming more confident as they each become more comfortable with one another.

_The silver rain falling,_

_Just as it falleth now;_

_And all things slept gently!_

_Ah! Alice where art thou!_

_I've sought thee by lakelet,_

_I've sought thee on the hill,_

_And in the pleasant wildwood,_

_When winds blew cold and chill;_

_I've sought thee in forest,_

_I'm looking heav'nward now;_

_I'm looking heav'nward now_

_Oh! there, mid the starshine,_

_I've sought thee in forest,_

_I'm looking heav'nward now._

_Oh! there amid the starshine,_

_Alice, I know art thou._

Their voices trailed off as the song to an end. Rhett bowed politely and Scarlett dropped into a curtsey.

"Thank you, Miss, that was a pleasure that I'll reflect back on this evening while sitting alone in my Atlanta hotel room.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad I could oblige." Suddenly they both started laughing at their outrageous pretenses and Rhett comfortably took her hands in his, swinging them lightly.

"Oh, Scarlett, you are a joy!" he said sincerely, smiling so broadly that his eyes danced in appreciation and he chuckled warmly. She stood before him, savoring his praise, basking in it as if it was the sun that was warming her face and not his gaze alone. The look on her face made Rhett stop laughing. There was nothing funny about this moment.

How it all happened, neither one could say for sure, but suddenly Scarlett was in Rhett's arms and he was kissing her deeply, passionately. She pulled her head back and Rhett half expected to be on the receiving end of a fierce slap, but she only snaked her arms up around his neck while her eyes searched the planes and contours of his face. Gazing into the brilliant green depths of her eyes, Rhett leaned in to kiss her again. Tentative now that he held this marvelous creature securely in his arms. His mustache lightly grazed her face as he placed feather light kisses on her cheek, her chin and her nose before focusing once more on her red lips that trembled just a little and parted ever so slightly. His lips met hers and he savored the sweetness of her pouty lips. Her body became pliant and he could bend her to him, molding her to his chest, abdomen and thighs. She was so small, her waist so tiny—even without a corset—that his arms crossed over each other as he held her tightly against his body. Their kiss turned into two, three, four until they both lost count. Each was lost in the other, his scent, her taste, his hardness, and her softness, until they both melded into one.

Off in the distance Rhett heard a bell tolling eight times. "Umm," he said, as his lips moved from her to her neck and down her throat, "I always heard that in times of high passion one can hear bells ringing, but I always thought it was an old wives tale," he murmured.

"Umm," Scarlett replied as if waking up from a deep, slumber, then just as one crosses the bridge between dreams and reality and wakes with a start, Scarlett mind snapped to attention and no matter how wonderful Rhett's arms felt at that moment, cold, hard reality set in when she realized what the bells meant.

"God's nightgown! I've got to get back!"

"Wha—"

"That's the bell tolling the beginning of the workday for the field hands. Oh, my God! It's late!" Scarlett tore herself from his arms, climbed onto Sumter without any preamble and started galloping back from whence they came.

Still breathless from their encounter, Rhett shook his head in an effort to shirk the feeling that he really wanted savor and luxuriate in while sipping a brandy and smoking a cigar, but that was not to be the case. He'd have time this evening to conjure up a mental image of Scarlett and thumb through his memories of his visit to Tara like a favorite, timeworn book. For now, all he could do was gather what he could of his wits, jump onto Dublin and set off after her. He needed every minute of the ride back to Tara to compose himself and he only hoped Scarlett was able to do the same and return to the house undetected.


	5. Chapter 5

**First, a sincere thank to those of you who have read and reviewed. Your words motivate me to keep this going. Second, this update has been slow going simply because there has been a glut of updates and new stories posted that I've been busy reading instead of writing. Sorry about that. However I can't resist reading all these good stories. There are so many great writers here that I find myself a little embarrassed at this trifle that takes MM's characters and throws just about everything else of MM's to the wind—so to speak. Bear in mind that this is aiming for funny and sunny (although there is some angst) so while I love the canon that is GWTW, I offer my sincerest apologies to purists (myself among them) because I know I'm veering way off track here with the goal to keep it light. Enjoy!**

Chapter 5 – The Barbeque

In later years when Scarlett would look back on the barbeque at Twelve Oaks that sunny April day, her recollection of the day's events were foggy at best. Often she would think that they were like a watercolor painting that had become splattered with droplets of rain, which obscured bits and pieces of the day and blurred the fine lines that clearly depicted the actual events.

It had all started out well enough. Scarlett had returned to Tara and to the safety of her bedroom undetected. She doffed her boy's clothes and donned a wrapper while she anxiously awaited a tub of water for her bath. Sitting in the relative peace of her bedroom, Scarlett had time to reflect on the morning's events and a ripple of excitement shot through her, prompting her to race to the mirror and search her reflection to see if indeed, she looked as different as she felt. Her sixteen-year old face stared back at her with her, the same as it always had but if truth be told, her eyes did possess a different gleam, a warmth that hadn't been there yesterday or even earlier this morning. She heard the door of the guest room down the hall open and then close and realized that Rhett had probably just returned from the stable. She regretted leaving him to fend for himself like she did, but she knew there would be hell to pay if anyone were to discover that she had met him in the early morning hours to ride unchaperoned through the countryside.

"Rhett." She said his name aloud. A shiver ran up her spine and she fell upon her soft feather bed in a fit of giggles, hugging her pillow to her chest as she replayed their kiss over and over in her mind. Never had any of the county boys kissed her like that. Never had the kisses of the county boys made her go hot and cold and shaky like his did. Nearly an hour later, her heart still had not returned to its normal rhythmic beat and her face was still prettily flushed with the excitement of the morning. "Why, I act like I was almost in love with him," she whispered aloud, "but I can't be, can I?"

It is too soon, she admonished herself. Why only yesterday she was in love with Ashley. But as she told Rhett earlier, his definition of love was certainly at odds with her romantic dreams of Ashley. Her dreams were an idyll, chaste and romantic; passion, hunger, need, want and yes, even companionship, were not characteristics she would ascribe to the wedded bliss she imagined with Ashley Wilkes.

Today, one day later and what seemed like ten years older, she looked back on those dreams as a child crying for the moon with absolutely no idea of what she would do with it if she actually attained her heart's desire. Today, she felt as if she was truly a grown-up, a child who had matured into a woman overnight. Today, this morning to be precise, something raw and passionate had been ignited in her and she knew that Rhett was responsible for that.

Rhett. How could one word conjure up so many thoughts and images? If she lived to be one hundred, she would never forget the feeling of his arms pressing her to his long, lean and hard body. She would never forget the sweet pressure of his lips on hers, parting hers and of his tongue seeking solace in her hot mouth, only to find not solace, but a steamy passion that had long sat dormant just waiting for someone like him to set it ablaze. She grinned at the thought of him and with a little wonder and awe, she sat up straighter and prouder, more confident in her womanly wiles than she had ever been up until this moment. For while she had bewitched many of the young county swains, never before had she enticed and enchanted a man of Rhett's age and worldliness and not for one minute did she doubt that she had indeed captured his heart. She knew it by instinct. Men always fell at her feet. All she had to do was bat her eyes, look coy and demure and then, toss the man some compliment and they would do any foolish thing she asked of them. Strangely, she had no desire to play Rhett for a fool, but she knew in her heart that he was hers to have and do with as she wished. All in all, that was a heady feeling, even for someone as self-confident as Scarlett O'Hara. It only proved to her one thing: no man existed who was immune to her charms.

Decked out in her green-sprigged muslin dress, which was cut much too low for a morning barbeque, Scarlett was so happy when they set out for Twelve Oaks that she could afford to be generous with her smiles and bestowed many on both Suellen and Careen with whom she rode in the carriage while Frank and Rhett traveled together in Frank's carriage. Rhett's eyes had admired her up and down when she had finally arrived on Tara's front porch after Gerald had started his countdown, impatient, as her father was to be off to the neighboring plantation.

"Why he looks as if he knew what I look like without my shimmy!" thought Scarlett at the brazen way his eyes traveled over her body. Yet, she couldn't get angry with him when she was doing the exact same thing. She was shocked when she discovered that her gaze had traveled from his black hair that had felt so soft under her fingers to his broad shoulders and strong chest to his long legs, all of which she had been pressed against not more than a few hours earlier.

She entertained herself with these thoughts during the short ride to Twelve Oaks. Once the two carriages arrived, however, her solitude was gone and so was Rhett. He was lost in the beehive of activity that surrounded their carriages. John Wilkes, the host, greeted Gerald, Scarlett and her sisters while, India, his daughter, stood at his side as hostess, extending her hand to Suellen and Careen but only begrudgingly to Scarlett. Men swarmed over Frank's carriage, calling greetings to him, and Rhett was swallowed up in introductions. Inside the great hall, Scarlett stood alone until she caught sight of Ashley at the top of the stairs. Usually, just the sight of him could make Scarlett's heart swell with emotion, but today, it kept its beat as she called out a greeting to Ashley before he made his way to her side with Melanie Hamilton in tow to make the introductions.

All the while, Scarlett's eyes scanned the foyer for Rhett but not finding him, she made polite conversation with Ashley, Melanie and Melanie's brother Charles. Finally, seeing Rhett enter the foyer, Scarlett gave Charles her full, undivided attention.

"Why Charles Hamilton, you handsome old thing, you! I'll bet you came all the way down here from Atlanta just to break my poor heart!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, Miss O'Hara, I couldn't…I wouldn't," he breathed while his faced flushed a bright red.

Scarlett turned from Charles, skimming deliberately over the sight of Rhett chatting with John Wilkes, and threw the Tarleton twins a greeting, which brought them immediately to her side. Then, her eye fell upon Cade Calvert and she waved gaily at him and flashing her dimples, he was drawn to her side, too. As Scarlett made her way outdoors to where everyone was assembling around the food being laid out on long white linen-covered tables, she gathered beaux, one by one, like one would collect wildflowers until she seated herself atop a large ottoman, thinking her admirers could crowd around her more easily that way. She wanted to show Rhett how many beaux she had, that she was desired and was, in her own way, experienced, too, in matters of the heart. She wanted to prove to him that she could command a following and possessed the same self-confidence that he exhibited. She wanted to be on a level playing field with him, as equals and to do so, she needed to demonstrate her skill at the one talent she believed was her strongest. She wanted him to see that he was just one of many and that the kiss they shared earlier this morning was quite commonplace for a girl of uncommon sensibilities.

Quite simply, she wanted to drive him crazy with jealousy.

She flirted, laughed and nibbled daintily the delicacies that the men brought her. The party was a shining success from all outward signs, but to Scarlett, the party was a dismal failure. Yes, she had men surrounding her, vying for her attentions, her smiles and a word of encouragement. But then, she caught sight of Ashley Wilkes strolling the gardens with Melanie Hamilton and her heart stopped, not because she wasn't linked arm in arm with Ashley, but because they looked so in love and somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, she wished she and Rhett were strolling in their place. Her eyes quickly sought out Rhett and found him for the first time apart from the crowd. He was standing alone staring at her. Her face was easy for him to read and he laughed aloud and gave her a sly wink. He inclined his head toward the flower-festooned gazebo and took off in that direction with a smile on his face.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but there is someone I need to see," Scarlett told the thong of men who all looked up at her dumbfounded when she rose and started across the lawn without any further explanation.

"I'm surprised you could tear yourself away from your ardent young men," said Rhett, surprising Scarlett when he walked out from behind a hedgerow that encircled the gazebo.

"Oh, you nearly scared me to death!"

"Oh, come now. Surely you were expecting to find me here?"

"Yes…but I didn't expect you to appear from behind a bush," Scarlett said nervously.

"But you did want me to appear, didn't you? There you were, surrounded by any number of men and yet, you didn't seem very happy. Why not?"

"I—I don't know wh—what you mean," stuttered Scarlett.

"Oh, I think you do. You may have collected every young man here at the barbeque today but you wanted more of what we shared this morning, admit it."

"I'll admit no such thing!"

"Come, Scarlett, tell the truth. You were in the middle of a crowd of men and yet you were lonely," he said brushing a stay curl back from her cheek, then added purposefully "just as I was."

"Well," Scarlett cast her eyes down demurely, stretching out her response, "I did enjoy our morning ride."

"So did I," admitted Rhett with a smile. He extended his arm to her and she linked her arm with his and with his other hand, he gently covered the top of her hand as it rested on his arm. They strolled around the garden that encircled the gazebo, just as Scarlett had seen Ashley and Melanie do earlier.

There was a full-blown barbeque in progress all around them with more than a hundred people from the county and beyond laughing and talking and delighting in what they would later remember with misty eyes as the last days of the Old South yet Scarlett took in none of it. It was as though the world was holding its breath. There was no laughter, no arguing from the men in the arbor, no sweet smells of roasting pork coming from the barbeque pits; there was only Rhett and their quiet conversation.

Rhett spoke of places he had traveled and adventures he still longed to take. Scarlett talked about horses and racing and the thrill of clearing a hedge. He talked about his business ventures and the risks he was taking with the belief that the payoff would be worth it in the end. She talked about outwitting Mammy and her mother and her constant bickering with Suellen.

"I guess I don't have a very exciting life," she concluded after trying to keep up with his stories one for one.

"That's not true. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be true. If you want something out of life, go for it. That's always been my motto."

"Yes, but you're a man. It is easier for a man."

"That's may be true in some cases, but certainly not all."

"Really? Give me an example." She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her eyes demanding an answer.

"Women control men all the time. They wield their—er—charms to control men and get what they want of a given situation, whether it be marriage or a new bauble."

"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee!" she cried, taking his arm again and continuing their stroll. "There are so many rules for a girl to obey. And, if a girl sees a man that she likes, what can she do? She must sit around and wait for him to pick up on her hints. Once she is married, a woman is supposed to maintain her home, have her children and be at her husband's beck and call. Where's the adventure in all of that?"

"Like I said, that's especially when women keep their, shall we say, favors, in a safe until they get what they want. It is their currency," he said, giving her a lopsided grin as he looked at her from the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction to his words. "They may not be out working at a job, but nevertheless, they pay their husband a handsome wage provided he tows the line."

"Bah! Like I said," Scarlett mused wistfully, "I wish I were a man."

"Well, I, for one, am enormously grateful that you are not. You are a beautiful woman Scarlett O'Hara and I'll remember you and this day long after I've left Clayton County. I must say you clean up well. This morning I went riding with a young lad who looked, in an odd way, a little like you. In fact, he could possibly be your brother," he winked conspiratorially at her and smiled a crooked smile. "But now, with you before me in your pretty gown, which—" he paused and looked around as if to make sure he was not being overhead, "is cut far too low for a morning event, you are beautiful and a bit risqué, but you won't find me complaining. You look quite bewitching and I have no doubt that this image of you will be a memory that I'll draw upon when I'm crossing to England in a few weeks."

"Really?" Scarlett asked almost breathlessly, gazing into his black eyes with her misty green ones.

"Really."

Just then India Wilkes stood up to announce the end of the morning festivities, which gave everyone a chance to rest up before the ball that evening. Scarlett was far too caught up in the moment to think for a single second that she could possibly relax enough to fall asleep and she didn't want to leave Rhett's side. But as in most instances of her life, she had very little say in the matter, so reluctantly, she loosened her arm from Rhett's and took a step away from him, turning in the direction of the house, the ever so slight slump of her shoulders showing her dismay.

She quickly turned back to face him. "Will I see you later?"

"I'm afraid I have to leave in an hour."

"Oh," she said, trying to hide her disappointment. The dancing would start this evening and she wouldn't have a partner, well, not a partner that she cared about anyway. Suddenly, compared to the man that Rhett Butler was, all of her childhood beaux seemed like pimple-faced little boys. Her heart broke at the thought that the dancing would come and she wouldn't be able to dance with him again, show off her catch and dance in his arms for real this time, with a real orchestra and a real ball gown.

Reading the disappointment in her face, Rhett reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him. "Scarlett, please. Meet me in about forty minutes—someplace. I want to say goodbye to you."

"I don't know if I can get away."

"Oh, come on, Scarlett. Consider it an adventure. You can find a way to sneak away from all the girls."

"Well, where should we meet?"

"You name it."

"How about right here, at the gazebo?"

"That's fine."

"In forty minutes then." Scarlett, her heart feeling lighter, started off for the house again, this time running lightly for the sooner she got there, the sooner she could run off to meet Rhett.

"Yes. Don't be late!" Rhett called after her.

* * *

Scarlett was heading upstairs with all the other girls for a nap. It was there that she found her good friend Cathleen Calvert.

"Scarlett, I see you've been spending time with Rhett Butler. Why if you keep doing that, you're reputation will be in shreds," stated Cathleen as they climbed the steps together.

"Why? What is the matter with him?" Scarlett looked at Cathleen with her mouth wide open. How did Cathleen know of Rhett Butler? Cathleen, while one of Scarlett's best friends, was not what anyone would describe as very bright. In fact, she was commonly referred to as being totally empty headed.

"My dear, he isn't received!"

"What do you mean? Mr. Wilkes has opened his home to him. Mr. Kennedy is doing business with him. And even my father has done business with him. In fact, he stayed with us last night."

"Not really!" gasped Cathleen. "I can't believe it."

"Well, I don't believe it either," stated Scarlett flatly, effectively ending the topic of conversation.

"No, you misunderstood me. I don't believe _you_ received him. He isn't received anywhere!"

"What are you talking about? What did he do?"

"Oh, Scarlett, he has the most terrible reputation. He's from Charleston and his folks are some of the nicest people there, but they won't even speak to him. Caro Rhett told me about him last summer. He isn't any kin to her family, but she knows all about him, everybody does. He was expelled from West Point. Imagine! And for things too bad for Caro to know. And then there was that business about the girl he didn't marry."

"Tell me what you know," Scarlett said slowly, feeling an odd pang in her stomach.

"Darling, don't you know anything? Caro told me all about it last summer and her mama would die if she thought Caro even knew about it. Well, this Mr. Butler took a Charleston girl out buggy riding. I never did know who she was, but I've got my suspicions. She couldn't have been very nice or she wouldn't have gone out with him in the late afternoon without a chaperon."

Scarlett's face turned red as Cathleen told her story. Rhett took her out for an early morning ride. "Was he trying to compromise me?" Scarlett wondered as they drifted into an empty bedroom reserved for the girls.

"Scarlett, are you listening?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, startled for a minute. "Go on."

"And, my dear, they stayed out nearly all night and walked home finally, saying the horse had run away and smashed the buggy and they had gotten lost in the woods. And guess what—"

"I can't guess. Tell me," said Scarlett dully without any of the enthusiasm she would have normally exhibited after receiving such a juicy piece of gossip.

"He refused to marry her the next day!"

"Oh," murmured Scarlett absently.

"He said he hadn't—er—done anything to her and he didn't see why he should marry her. And, of course, her brother called him out, and Mr. Butler said he'd rather be shot than marry a stupid fool. And so they fought a duel and Mr. Butler shot the girl's brother and he died, and Mr. Butler had to leave Charleston and now nobody receives him," finished Cathleen triumphantly.

"Did she have a baby?" whispered Scarlett in Cathleen's ear, the knot in her stomach tightening.

Cathleen shook her head violently. "But she was ruined just the same," she hissed back.

* * *

Tiptoeing down the wide staircase, Scarlett caught sight of Rhett making a hasty exit from the smoking room where all the gentlemen gathered to trade stories while the ladies napped. The timing was perfect! She could catch up with him now—a good ten minutes ahead of their agreed upon meeting time—for a private goodbye. Since she had seen him last, her admiration from him had grown tenfold. She admired him for not marrying a fool and the idea of his unsavory reputation excited her more than she liked to admit. She ran down the stairs and into the great hall. As she ran, she cast quick glances over her shoulder to be sure no one caught sight of her and when she turned back, she literally bumped into her mother.

"Scarlett! Who are you running from? I thought you were upstairs napping with the other girls? Well, no matter. You shouldn't be running like that, but I am glad you ran into me. I want to talk with you. Step in here," Ellen commanded, leading Scarlett into the library and closing the door behind them.

"But Mother—"

"Scarlett, darling, I've come into some disturbing news. From three different sources, I have learned today that Mr. Butler is not received, not even by his family in Charleston."

"Oh, that—"

"Excuse, me? Did you say, 'Oh, that' as if not being received is a minor infraction? Well, it isn't, my dear. And because of that, I must forbid you to have any thing more to do with the man."

"But Mother—"

"Scarlett, the point is, he is not received."

"But we received him last evening."

"I know but that was before I heard this news."

"And he stayed at our home overnight."

"To continue to receive him when I know that not even his own family receives him is simply not done."

"Why? Mother, he—"

"Now, Scarlett, I won't hear anything more. Apparently, he was involved with some scandal concerning a young lady and I do not wish for you to become ensnared in that man's—"

"I don't understand!" Scarlett interrupted louder than she intended. "You were friendly with him last evening. You liked him. You know his mother—"

"Yes, and now I feel only sorrow and pity for dear Eleanor Butler to have a son who would disgrace her family in such a scandalous fashion."

"Mother, I'm sure he didn't do anything—"

"How would you know what he did or didn't do? No. Now, Scarlett, you've heard me on this—"

"But, Mother, if you'll only—"

"Scarlett, I don't like your tone, dear. Now, the subject is closed." Ellen's voice never rose, but her stern face told Scarlett that further arguing was futile. "I saw you two talking today with your heads together and it seemed, at least from afar, that you might be getting friendly with each other. I'm telling you now that is to stop. I do not want to see you near that man and I do not want you to speak to that man again. There, now is that understood? Good." Ellen finished without waiting for Scarlett's nod of acquiescence and with a swish of her skirts, she sailed out of the room.

Scarlett, seething with repressed anger, did the only thing she could at the moment to release her pent up frustration. Her hand dropped to a little table beside her, fingering a tiny china rose-bowl on which two china cherubs smirked. The room was so still she almost screamed to break the silence. She must do something or go mad. She picked up the bowl and hurled it viciously across the room toward the fireplace. It barely cleared the tall back of the sofa and splintered with a little crash against the marble mantelpiece.

A whistling sound came from the depths of the sofa and then a voice. "Has the war started?"

Nothing had ever startled or frightened her so much, and her mouth went too dry for her to utter a sound. She caught hold of the back of the chair, her knees going weak under her, as Rhett Butler rose from the sofa where he had been lying and made her a bow of exaggerated politeness.

"Oh, you nearly scared me to death," breathed Scarlett with her hand to her heart in an effort to still its mad thumping. Regaining some measure of calm, her face turned red with embarrassment at the scene, which he just witnessed. Embarrassment because he was the topic of discussion and embarrassment because she wanted him to think as highly of her mother as she did and she guessed overhearing this encounter did nothing to bolster his opinion of her mother. "Mr. Butler, you should have made your presence known."

"And have your mother call in the troops to throw me bodily out of Twelve Oaks? I think not."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. Mother, well, she's usually not like that. She—"

"No, I'm sorry. Everything she said was true. I'm sure even you've heard some rumors about me today. Seems gossip follows me wherever I go."

"So it is true? You and a girl—"

"Scarlett, I'll tell you the whole sordid story. Yes, I took a girl out buggy riding but was it my fault that we were unavoidably delayed and I couldn't get her back in time? Is that a reason to marry someone? I don't know about you, but it isn't enough for me, not by a long shot. So I was called out. Again, I ask you, should I allow her brother to kill me when I can shoot straighter? No, not by a long shot. However, my father, who is a bastion of the Southern ways of life, thought otherwise on both counts and struck my name from the family bible. There you have it. Everything. That is why I am not received and until today, it hasn't bothered me one iota."

"And now it suddenly bothers you?"

"Yes, remarkably, it does."

"And, why is that?" Scarlett asked in all seriousness.

"Because, my dear, up until today, I came and went as I pleased and took little interest in the so-called good families of our Southland. However, it has not escaped my comprehension that if I were received, I could sit with you unnoticed at today's barbeque, I could chat with you without the local swains drawing their swords and I could court you without your mother asking your father to take me to task."

"Court me?"

"But alas, that is not to be because your mother stated it perfectly," he continued smoothly as if he had not heard her question. "She wants you to have nothing more to do with me, so I suppose it is a good thing that I'm leaving and that's why I wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh, it is just so unfair!" cried Scarlett, stomping her foot, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"Yes, it is, but I don't have to tell you that. Now give me a smile, like a good little girl. I'd hate to remember you standing here with a tear-stained face."

She prickled at the thought that with his offhand reference he dismissed her as a child. Even if he didn't mean it, he seemed so mature and sophisticated that she felt like a child by comparison, a child who now had been just reprimanded by her mother in front of her beau. Her shame sparked the rebel in her and she felt her heart beat faster and her face flush as she grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat, drawing him near. Her arms snaked up around his neck and she whispered desperately: "Kiss me. Kiss me!"

Being a man of thirty-three with unashamed appetites, Rhett did not hesitate to comply with the wishes of the passionate young woman hanging from his neck. His breath hitched at her invitation then, without a second thought, his arms went around her waist and he pressed his mouth hard against hers. She was opening to him like a flower, her lips parted so easily that he drove his tongue into her mouth and she rose up to meet him, standing on her toes and drinking from him as if she could not get enough.

Their kiss was frenzied; she desperately trying to prove herself a woman and he all-consumed with her nimble, young body that he desperately wanted to take from her all that he could for he knew the odds were slim that he ever taste of her again. They explored each other's mouths with their lips and tongues. They grabbed at each other, both all lips and searching hands and tightening arms, until they broke apart, startled by a loud yell from the foyer, followed by even more commotion.

"What—wh—what is it?" Her breathing came in rapid gasps, but he managed to make out her words.

Rhett's breathing was equally labored and he only just slightly loosened his hold on Scarlett as he whispered into her hair. "Wait! Listen."

"Lincoln has called for soldiers...volunteers to fight against us!" came a voice from the hall, followed by more Rebel yells and a thundering of boots as men ran across the foyer and out the entrance.

Alarmed, Scarlett looked up at Rhett. "Don't be afraid. The fools are all going to enlist. I'm afraid we'll be in a full-blown war before the week is out," said Rhett. "But don't you worry." He tilted her chin up to his face so he could look her squarely in the eye.

"You're not enlisting, are you?"

"No, my dear, you won't find me doing such a foolish thing. But I will be sailing for England this week and I'll think of you. But now, I must thank you, Scarlett O'Hara for a most pleasurable interlude," he said, stepping away from her and feigning nonchalance as he bowed before her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Goodbye."

"But you're not leaving already?"

"I have to. Stay well," he said, taking his index finger and running it over her swollen red lips. "Think of me on those morning rides of yours."

"But…but—" she started, trailing after him at a loss for words. This wasn't the romantic goodbye scene she had envisioned just a short while ago. It had all been so passionate, so—so—and now he was leaving—just up and leaving.

"Goodbye, Scarlett," he said again, then turned on his heel. He opened the door to the library and looked back at her forlorn face and thought he had never seen someone look so beautiful and innocent. "I'll write you," he added as an afterthought to ease the uncomfortable twinge of guilt that flittered through his mind. With that, he closed the door and was gone.

She stood there, frozen in place. It was over. Life would never be the same again. He understood her in ways that no one ever could, ever would and now, he was gone. Probably for good if her mother had her way. The thought of returning to life as it had been was unbearable. Unthinkable! How could she pretend that she was the same as she was this morning? She felt as if she had been reborn and to go back to the same old ways and the same old days was unfathomable. How would it be possible? Oh, damn the South! Damn the War! Her heart was breaking and tears welled up in her eyes. But maybe…maybe all wasn't lost. Maybe she could talk to her mother. Maybe…just maybe she could convince her mother to allow Rhett to court her. He promised to write. If she could just soften her mother's stance on Rhett before his first letter, maybe they could court. Her face brightened at the thought and a smile came back onto her face. Then, she remembered: he was leaving! There was no time to lose if she wanted to see him before he left.

She ran into the hall and watched as all the other girls and the men dashed out the front door. Couples were running pell-mell through the house. She ran to the window and saw Ashley mount his horse and bend down to bestow a parting kiss on Melanie's lips. She frantically searched the front drive for Frank's carriage and finding it, she went through the front door and started down the steps to bid him one last goodbye. Who knows when she'd see him again! She reached the bottom step of the veranda and saw Frank begin to draw reign, but another carriage in front of him blocked his exit, so he was forced to wait a moment before he could pull out of the driveway. The horse pranced anxiously in anticipation, but this delay provided Scarlett the opportunity she needed. She caught sight of Rhett and he of her and she waved, running lightly to him.

"Stay right here!" Ellen's voice was full of reproach and it drew Scarlett to her side like a leash pulls a dog into place. "Remember, what I told you, my dear." Her voice was smooth, silky and as Scarlett stopped to stand at her side, she caught her mother's familiar scent of lemon verbena. To anyone observing the exchange from a distance, seeing Ellen's smiling countenance they would have incorrectly inferred that she was complimenting Scarlett on her high spiritedness or telling her daughter of her love. Only Rhett Butler caught the slight nuance of the exchange and knew what was as its basis.

As Frank Kennedy was finally able to pull his carriage into the congested lane of departing guest traffic in front of Twelve Oaks, Scarlett watched stoically at her mother's side. Ellen's polite smile was affixed to her face and she squeezed Scarlett's hand in the folds of her skirt, silently signaling Scarlett to do the same. Scarlett's heart was breaking but to go against Ellen's wishes was unheard of, so she tried to compose her herself, her green eyes glittering with unshed tears as she tried to bring a dimpled smile to her face.

She looked up at Rhett's face and their eyes locked, he with a wistful expression and she with one of absolute longing. She mouthed his name, "Rhett," but before she could see his reaction to her speaking his name for the first time, her mother stepped deftly between the two, effectively blocking out each's vision of the other.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5 – Between Heaven and Hell

When Rhett was finally unshackled from Frank Kennedy in Jonesboro, he quickly hopped the next train to Atlanta, arriving just before midnight. It had been a long day and while tired, Rhett believed the cause for his drowsiness was more than likely Frank Kennedy's company. He acted on him just like a sedative and now that he was free from his droning voice, Rhett felt himself coming awake. In fact, he was restless with a pent up nervous energy that prompted him to check into the Atlanta Hotel only to exit through the lobby moments later to take a brisk walk through the city's streets.

At this time of night, the only sound in the dark night was the rhythmic clicks of his boots on the wooden sidewalks, the sporadic cat-call from a drunk calling to a real or imagined associate down on the street and the faint sound of a fiddle playing in one of the brothels in the red light district further up the street. In the affable silence, Rhett's mind drifted back to the green-eyed vixen who had helped make the last day and a half speed by. He felt a familiar tightening in his loins just at the memory of her dazzling green eyes. His mind and his body remembered her lithe form, how her body molded to his, how soft and creamy the skin on her shoulders felt under his fingertips and how he longed to—

God, he was tense! His fists were clenched in his pockets. When he realized how tight his shoulders and neck felt and discovered the tension ran down his arms, he pulled his hands from his pockets and flexed his fingers, hoping that this simple exercise would release the tension in his muscles like removing a cork from a bottle of champagne. In fact, his whole body felt stiff, one part of his anatomy in particular, which made him feel like some damn teenager who couldn't control his urges. He shook his head in disgust and amusement. When he told her she was bewitching, he wasn't kidding. She had easily cast a spell over him; try as he might to deny it. Why, she even had him so befuddled that he promised to write her. What a laugh that was, he thought, and chuckled softly to himself. The chances of him putting a pen to paper were about as slim as signing his name on a marriage license.

"Bah, she's just a woman and women's bodies come cheap. One is as good as any other," he told himself. He acknowledged that he needed something or someone before he could ever hope to relax enough to get some shuteye just as he found himself in front of Belle Watling's Sporting House. At that precise moment, he decided to indulge in a little libation and then some.

After tossing back a couple of whiskies at the bar in quick succession, he sauntered up to Belle Watling, the most notorious madam in Atlanta, who was currently in the middle of berating her bartender for serving drinks at full strength without the requisite watering down, which made the customers happy, but seriously diluted her profits.

He came up behind her, giving her rump a quick swat by way of a greeting.

"Why Rhett Butler? Where have you been you scoundrel?"

"Hello, Belle, how's it going?"

"A lot better now you're here," she said suggestively.

"You booked up tonight, Belle?"

"Why? You have something in mind?"

"I might."

"Are _you_ interested or are you thinking of pawning off another good friend of yours on me?"

"Just me, Belle."

"Well, in that case, I'm all yours," she told him with a wink. "Bill, hold down the fort, will ya?" Belle tossed her head and started up the stairs. Rhett paused a moment and threw down another whiskey before tossing a few dollars onto the bar, then followed Belle upstairs.

He knew the way and even though Belle had disappeared, he quickly found her quarters and eased open the door. The room was dark, lit only by one lamp with a red cut glass chimney.

"What do you want tonight, honey?" Belle approached him, swaying her hips suggestively, and started undoing his cravat but his fingers stopped her.

"Don't bother," he told her brusquely. He eyed her brightly painted face, her ruddy red hair. She would have been quite pretty if she didn't paint her face with so much rouge, he thought. Many of the most striking true redheads Rhett had ever seen had green eyes, but Belle, well, she wasn't exactly a natural redhead and her eyes, he noted with dismay, were a pale shade of blue. She set her hands on his chest and she started walking her fingers up his lapels while Rhett studied her face. When she reached up to kiss him full on the mouth he encircled both of her wrists with his long fingers and set her back down on her heels.

"Why, Rhett?" Belle gave him a questioning look.

"Don't talk. Don't say anything," he commanded. He spun her around and with a little shove, pushed her onto the mattress. He pulled her up on her knees and shoved her voluminous skirts up over her back. In one swift move he had unbuttoned his trousers and after about dozen quick thrusts, he was sated, had turned away from her and was fastening up.

"Honey, I know times are tough, but you don't have to worry about the clock. I've got you on a flat fee—" Belle told him as she struggled to untangle herself from the combined restraints of skirts and sheets. By the time she up righted herself, she heard a click as the door closed shut and he was gone. Belle stood up, straightened her skirts and ran to look out the window at the street below. There was Rhett Butler, briskly walking uptown. Within a minute he was gone from her sight and the only things he left behind for Belle was a rumpled bed and a gold piece.

* * *

In the days that followed the barbeque, Scarlett attended nearly a dozen weddings, each one adding to her depression. The first wedding belonged to Ashley and Melanie. Next up, was Charles Hamilton's wedding to Honey Wilkes, which was quickly followed by Stuart Tarleton and India Wilkes' nuptials. Everyone wanted to get married before the war, so there was a rash of "I do's" being said throughout the county, never more so than in the Wilkes-Hamilton family, which, thanks to the latest round of marriages, now could boast more marriages between cousins than the Book of Genesis.

Stuart had first proposed to Scarlett. Before she could answer, Brent proposed. But she turned both down flat as she had many before them. In his disappointment, Stuart turned to India, whom he had half-heartedly courted before Scarlett caught his eye. Brent, who could never quite see Stuart's interest in India, diverged from his brother for the first time in their lives. Other marriages followed, too, until by June of 1861, Scarlett felt like she had thrown enough rice to feed more than a hundred field hands a bowl or rice three times over.

However, the weddings did keep things exciting. Now that they were over and all the young men had joined the army, life at Tara returned to what was now the new normal. Ellen and Gerald were busier than ever making Tara produce to help the war effort; that left Suellen and Careen for company, neither of which quite filled the bill. Scarlett did what she could to occupy her time, but that wasn't saying much. Many mornings, she would walk about Tara. Occasionally, she would go riding and one day she found herself down by the Flint River where she and Rhett had rested their horses on the morning of the barbeque. She lay down in the grassy banks and looked up at the cloud formations that were moving quickly past her high above in the skies. Again, her mind drifted back to Rhett Butler as it always did when she was alone. More often than not, her mind conjured up images of him when she lay alone in bed at night. Then, like now, she remembered the smell of him, the silky softness of his hair, his deep Charlestonian drawl, his broad shoulders, his large hands, his expert fingers which brushed her skin with a touch that made her want to lean into him so that she could feel his hands all over her skin; and his lips and his closely clipped moustache, which caressed and tickled her cheeks, face, neck and mouth. She imagined him lying next to her, resting his hand on her abdomen in a most indecent manner…

Her reverie was broken by the sound of horse's hooves galloping toward her. Rhett! He's come! She quickly scrambled up to wave to him but it was only Jonas Wilkerson, the overseer, who was criss-crossing the grounds to round up any stray animals. Her heart fell and it wasn't the first time in the last couple of months. It seemed it happened on a daily basis. There wasn't a waking hour when Scarlett didn't imagine that he would show up on Tara's doorstep looking for her; seek her out in the stables or at the Flint River. She even imagined him coming up behind her while she swung on the swing on Tara's front lawn where they first talked so she would sit there night after night, giving him ample opportunity to surprise her, but he never came.

Day after day, she would wait for her father to bring the mail from Jonesboro. Day after day, she was disappointed when no letter from Rhett came in the post. Days of anticipation turned into weeks. Weeks of waiting turned into months and with each passing month with no word of him, her heart grew increasingly leaden. Soon the pleasant places like the stables, Flint River and the front lawn became places to be avoided at all costs. Now they were only places that only reminded her of how silly she was to trust him, to think that he cared for her. With a sudden clarity of Biblical proportions, Scarlett could see that she had overestimated her ability to charm Rhett Butler and considered for once that—perhaps—he had trifled with her just as she had flirted with so many men before him without a thought about their real feelings.

With a heart weighed down with despair and humiliation, she took to her bed. She lost weight and dark smudges appeared below her eyes. Everyone noticed the change in Scarlett, who had seemingly been transformed from vivacious girl to solemn spinster overnight. Fearing for her health, Ellen suggested Scarlett visit her Robillard kin in Savannah. A change of scenery would do her good, Ellen suggested, so Scarlett's trunks were packed and she was sent off with Prissy in tow.

Unfortunately, Scarlett's days in Savannah were no happier than they had been at Tara. Her grandfather was a crotchety old man who would brook no nonsense from anyone, least of all, his errant granddaughter, for that was what he believed her to be.

"So, your mother sent you to me because she's afraid you were going to make a bad match," he snarled over dinner one evening.

"I don't understand, Grandfather. Did she say that?"

He chortled until his mean-spirited guffaws turned into a massive coughing fit during which time Scarlett feared that he would spew the phlegm she heard rattling around in his chest all over the dining table. "She didn't have to," he said, when he finally caught his breath again. "You're both cut from the same cloth; like mother, like daughter. I only hope you don't settle for some peasant immigrant like she did!"

With that, Scarlett threw her napkin on the table and stood. "Thank you for your hospitality, Grandfather, but I've had just about all of it that I can stand. I'll take my leave now." She had Prissy pack her things and within an hour, she stood at the Savannah train station, tapping her foot in impatient exasperation, huffing with outrage and needing desperately to kick, hit or throw something to alleviate her frustration. It wasn't until the train departed that she was finally able to slow her breathing and her rapid pulse.

When she was finally back home at Tara, she had to explain her unexpected arrival to her stunned parents.

"Grandfather is a mean, grouchy old man," Scarlett told them in no uncertain terms.

"Now, dear, I won't have you speak that way about my father, your grandfather," Ellen replied smoothly.

"Oh, Mother, you don't understand! He said the most hateful things until finally, one day, he said more than I could stand."

"Katie Scarlett! I did not bring you up this way to speak in such a manner about your elders," Gerald retorted sternly, then quickly followed that up with, "What did he say?"

"Things I wish not to repeat, Pa."

"There is nothing you can't tell us. And I won't be having me own daughter keeping information from me!"

Scarlett's eyes darted from her father to her mother. Gerald didn't catch the look, but Ellen did and the smooth line of her lips twitched before she interjected quickly. "Now, Mr. O'Hara. I understand what Scarlett means. If his words made her uncomfortable, then we ought not make her repeat them. Now, Scarlett, we'll talk about this more tomorrow. In the meantime, go to your room and get some rest. I'm worried about you dear. You are still so pale and thin," she said, lifting Scarlett's chin so that she could gaze into her eyes. "Now, off with you, dear. Like I said, we'll speak in the morning."

Scarlett silently climbed the stairs to her bedroom, relieved that she didn't have to speak the hateful words her grandfather had used against her father, whom she adored. His words left her with many questions, all of which she had pondered at length on the train from Savannah. Did her mother want to marry someone other than her father? If so, why did her grandfather dislike the man so? And why did he dislike her father? And if he did dislike her father, why did he approve of that marriage? It was all too confusing so, exhausted from her long day of traveling, Scarlett slid gratefully between the sheets of her bed and let sleep claim her.

"Mrs. O'Hara, I'm worried about Katie Scarlett," Gerald told Ellen as he readied for bed later than night.

"She'll be fine, Mr. O'Hara. I'll talk with her."

"Me thinks she's suffering from a broken heart," Gerald told Ellen as she climbed into bed beside him.

"Nonsense! She's too young for that. And if she is, she'll get over it," Ellen told him stiffly as she pulled the covers up to her neck, rolled onto her side and barred further conversation with her back.

* * *

Rhett Butler had finally wrapped up the last details of his latest business trip. He had secured a large warehouse in Liverpool and had relocated the last bales of cotton that he had spent the better part of the 1861 procuring and now, it was all safely stored in the warehouse for the duration of the war. It had been a long and exhausting year. Working with a minimal budget, Rhett had done most of the labor himself, hiring just a few hands when needed. He had allocated a portion of the bulk of his funds to purchase the boats that he was running back and forth between England and Confederate ports, all of which were heavily guarded now with a Union blockade. The balance went to retain hands to man them so that he could bring in goods from England and Europe that the South was running short of in 1862, just one year into the war. Off-loading cotton bales and stacking them in a warehouse was akin to stacking up a child's set of blocks, which was something he could do himself, he reasoned, thereby saving himself a few pounds.

He collapsed on his hotel bed in exhaustion. He was tired and sweaty and in great need of a shave and a bath. While he waited for the maid to draw his bath, he alternatively dozed and stared at the ornate medallion pattern on the ceiling. Then, it happened again. It happened whenever he closed his eyes. Whenever he relaxed enough for his mind to wander. Once in awhile it happened while he was busy, too. Like today, when he was stacking the bales; he'd take a bale off a pallet, carry it inside and stack it alongside the others. The job was monotonous and he did it by rote. As a result, his mind, looking for stimulation, wandered back to Clayton County, Georgia and the unusual girl he met there one year ago. She had become commonplace in Rhett's mind, so much so that Rhett actually started believing that he had known her much longer than he actually had. Even more unsettling was the fact that this girl, whom he had known for no more than a few hours, had now become the yardstick by which he measured every other woman that he subsequently met and each one fell short of her by a considerable margin. Consequently, Rhett had embarked on a tour of celibacy, of a sort.

The last woman he had been with was Belle that night of the Twelve Oaks barbeque. God only knew what a disaster that turned out to be. Rhett remembered back to that night. He remembered his overpowering need for a physical release after he had been tempted and teased from the moment Scarlett O'Hara had walked into Tara's dining room that first night. Falling back to his old habits, he mistakenly thought that any body would do. He found out how wrong he was when Belle started wrapping her arms around his neck, just as Scarlett had done, and he had to stop her immediately. He had been with Belle numerous times, for they were old friends. He had kissed her before, but that night, after sharing some of the most enticing and delicious kisses with Scarlett, he couldn't bring himself to allow Belle to wipe clean the memory of Scarlett's lips on his with her own red-stained lips, which were swollen from ministering to the man before him. He couldn't bear to look into her blue eyes when what he wanted to hold in his imagination was Scarlett's green ones. So he was cold and inconsiderate, using Belle only to gain release and then abruptly leaving.

He felt a little guilty about that later that evening when still he couldn't find sleep. He had tossed and turned as badly as if he had not visited a whore. Get out of Atlanta, out of Georgia, that's what he needed to do, he told himself. But back in Charleston, it was no different. A visit to the local bordello ended with Rhett walking out before he even ventured upstairs. He even met with a couple of so-called "nice girls," but in comparison to one Scarlett O'Hara, they all fell far short in every way.

He looked forward to his business and hard work in a way he had never before. He threw himself into manual labor like he hadn't since he had worked his family's rice fields as a young boy. He told himself that by working his body hard all day, it would be too sore to remember the woman that he had walked away from. His mind proved to be another matter and not so easily distracted. Even when fatigued after a long day's work, a word, a voice, an image would spark a memory and his mind would soar out of control, remembering her, her smile, her hair, her dimples, her laugh, her courage, her horsemanship, her frustration, her lips, her breasts, her white skin, the way she felt clinging to him when he held her in his arms—and then, without warning, his body would follow his mind and the two would break away from Rhett's tight control.

The trips to Liverpool provided some respite, but not much as Rhett struggled to co-exist with his mind and body, both of which had become like two strangers that constantly hounded him, mocking him to the point that they would betray him at every chance they got.

On this particular evening in April of 1862, he gazed at his reflection in the hotel room mirror. Well, he certainly looked better, he remarked, and he felt better, too, now that he was cleaned up. In fact, he thought he looked and felt far too good not to enjoy a night on the town to celebrate a job well done. He would find the best restaurant in Liverpool, order the finest liquor and surely, it wouldn't take too much effort to find a lovely lady who would want to share his good fortune with him this evening. He opened the dresser drawer and removed his money clip, placing it his jacket's inside breast pocket and searched for the room key. It wasn't in the drawer, but lying atop the desk over by the window. He grabbed the key and tossed it lightly in the air, catching it swiftly and then slipping it into his trouser pocket. It was then that something on the desk caught his eye. He stepped forward, touching a neat stack of paper that sat on the desk. His fingers ran over the fine paper engraved with Hanover Hotel at its top. He glanced out the window down at Hanover Street, then back again at the paper, seemingly trying to arbitrate an internal debate. Finally, after a long while, with a sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and took a seat at the desk, reached for the pen and dipped it in the waiting inkwell before setting the nib to the paper.

* * *

"How would you like to visit Atlanta?" Ellen asked Scarlett one morning in May after observing that her daughter's outlook, while not as somber as it had been earlier in the year, had still not returned to high-spirited vivaciousness that had always made her proud. Her eyes had lost their spark and instead of dancing with excitement, they had darkened with the shadow of resignation. It was a look that Ellen was all too familiar with for she had long seen it in her own eyes and hated the thought of seeing it mirrored in her oldest child.

"What would I do in Atlanta?"

"I hear there's a lot going on there. You could stay with Melanie Wilkes and her Aunt Pittypat."

"I really would rather stay here. It's home."

"Well, darling, I've already written the necessary letters and they will be expecting you tomorrow."

"But Mother!"

"Scarlett, this is for the best."

"The best? Why? Why are you sending me away?"

"There have been some letters—You've received some letters," Ellen clarified.

"Letters? Really! Letters!" Scarlett's initial confusion turned to elation. Could it be? "Oh, Mother where are they?"

"There are gone."

"Gone?" Scarlett asked incredulously. "What do you me?" she asked with a smile on her face that was rarely seen these days.

"I burned them."

"What?" Scarlett wasn't sure she heard right. If she had, the total happiness she just felt started running through her hands like water from a spigot.

"You heard me."

"Who were they from?" She sought any information. Anything to hold onto.

"I imagine it was from your Mr. Butler."

"Why did you burn them?" Scarlett's words came out barely above a whisper. Her stomach lurched and she feared that if she didn't close her mouth, one false move and it would revolt and send her running for a wash basin.

"I told you that I would not have you associating with that man. He has done nothing to rebuild his reputation in the last year."

"How do you know all this?"

"Everyone is talking, Scarlett. People talk. That's what they do."

"What does any of that have to do with sending me away." She was crying now, crying with total frustration while her heart's beating threatened to stop her breathing.

"If he is writing to you hear, undoubtedly, he is likely to show up here one day and I'll not have him find you here."

"So you are going to keep me hidden for the rest of my life?"

"Scarlett, don't even begin to raise your voice to me. The matter is settled. Pack your bags and be ready to leave tomorrow morning."

* * *

"Pa, please you must talk with Mother. She wants to send me away and—"

"I know all about it puss and there's nothing I can be doing about it."

"It's not fair!"

"Don't you be jerking your chin at me, young lady. Your mother is afraid you'll make a bad match and I won't be having the apple of my eye lowering herself to that…that scoundrel. Has he been trifling with you? Has he asked to marry you?"

"No," she said shortly.

"Nor will he," said Gerald.

"But he wrote to me and Mother burned the letters. I don't know what they said and I don't know how many there were. Maybe he wrote something important. Maybe he has changed!" Fury flamed in her, but Gerald waved her quiet with a hand.

"Hold your tongue, Miss! He's not the type to get married. He takes what he wants from a girl and moves on. He will never settle down." Scarlett's hand fell from his arm. It couldn't be true! Yes, she had let him kiss her and she had kissed him but if he wrote her letters surely his intentions were honorable. A pain slashed at her heart as savagely as a wild animal's fangs. Through it all, she felt her father's eyes on her, a little pitying, a little annoyed at being faced with a problem for which he knew no answer. He loved Scarlett, but it made him uncomfortable to have her forcing her childish problems on him for a solution. Ellen knew all the answers. Scarlett should have taken her troubles to her. But then, again, it looked like Scarlett had already had her conversation with Ellen and Ellen had given her an answer that she didn't at all like.

"Is it a spectacle you've been making of yourself—of all of us?" he bawled, his voice rising as always in moments of excitement. "Did you run after a man who's not in love with you at the barbeque, when you could have any of the bucks in the County?"

Anger and hurt pride drove out some of the pain.

"I didn't run after him."

"It's lying you are!" said Gerald, and then, peering at her stricken face, he added in a burst of kindliness: "I'm sorry, daughter. But after all, you are nothing but a child and there's lots of other beaux."

"Mother was only fifteen when she married you, and I'm seventeen," said Scarlett, her voice muffled.

"Your mother was different," said Gerald. "She was never flighty like you. Now come, daughter, cheer up, and I'll take you to Charleston next week to visit your Aunt Eulalie and you'll be forgetting about Mr. Butler in a week."

"He thinks I'm a child," thought Scarlett, grief and anger choking utterance, "and he's only got to dangle a new toy and I'll forget my bumps." But then, she paused. Charleston. If she could get to Charleston, maybe there was a chance of seeing Rhett again.

"Oh, yes, Pa. That would be just heavenly!" she gushed, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug and kiss. "And you'll tell Mother."

"Yes, I'll talk with your Mother later this evening."

After supper, while Careen was busy working on her studies and Suellen was writing a letter to Frank Kennedy Ellen reminded Scarlett to have her bags in order for the trip to Jonesboro and subsequently, Atlanta, the next morning.

Startled, Scarlett turned her expectant eyes upon her father.

"Oh, Mrs. O'Hara," Gerald stuttered. "I was thinking…that…perhaps, I'd take our Scarlett here with me to Charleston next week and she can visit her Aunt Eulalie. She's not looking as pert as she might and maybe a little side trip would do her just as well as an extended stay in Atlanta."

"Mr. O'Hara, I know you mean well, but that is out of the question. She's going to Atlanta as discussed. All the plans are in order. She's expected."

"But Mrs. O'Hara—"

"Mr. O'Hara, _Charleston? Charleston?_" she stressed each word so that he might catch her meaning without having to spell it out for him. "Charleston would be the last place I'd think Scarlett should visit given the _circumstances_."

Gerald turned red when he realized that he had inadvertently offered Scarlett an escape to the very destination that Ellen would never let her go; forgetting entirely that was exactly the destination she longed to escape to given the _circumstances_ from which Rhett Butler hailed. How could he have made such a blatant mistake? He lowered his eyes under Ellen's penetrating stare. "Yes, Mrs. O'Hara, I see…I…I…I didn't think."

"No, I should think not," Ellen concluded. Then, she turned back to Scarlett, who both had forgotten about during their discourse. "Scarlett, as I said. Please be sure you are ready to leave in the morning."

Scarlett, fuming with repressed anger, stood and stomped her foot. "But I don't—" she cried out, raising her voice to her parents.

"Now, don't be jerking your chin at me," warned Gerald. Now was his chance to redeem himself in Ellen's eyes even if it made him uncomfortable. "If you had any sense you'd have married Stuart or Brent Tarleton long ago. Think it over, daughter. You've lost your chance with Stuart, but you can still have Brent. Marry him and then the plantations will run together and Jim Tarleton and I will build you a fine house, right where they join, in that big pine grove and—"

"Will you stop treating me like a child!" cried Scarlett. "I don't want to go to Brent or have a house. I only want—" She caught herself but not in time.

Gerald's voice was strangely quiet and he spoke slowly as if drawing his words from a store of thought seldom used. "It's only Mr. Butler you're wanting, and you'll not be having him. And if he wanted to marry you, 'twould be with misgivings that I'd say Yes." And, seeing her startled look, he continued: "I want my girl to be happy and you wouldn't be happy with him."

"Oh, I would! I would!"

"That you would not, daughter. Only when like marries like can there be any happiness."

Scarlett had a sudden treacherous desire to cry out, "But you've been happy, and you and Mother aren't alike," but casting a sidelong glance at her mother she repressed it, fearing that either one of them would box her ears for her impertinence.

"Oh, Pa," cried Scarlett impatiently, "you're wrong! We're so much alike. Truly we are. We think alike. We look at life the same way—" It as then that Scarlett stopped, realizing too late that she said far too much.

"And just when have you two shared so much time together unchaperoned?" Gerald bellowed, punctuating each word with righteous anger. "Your mother is right. This is not to be.

"Why your mother and I were never left alone for one minute to speak of such things. It isn't proper."

Scarlett took in her mother with a long glance while Gerald spoke. Ellen's lips were sealed in a tight line and her eyes were sad. It suddenly struck her that for all of her seventeen years, Scarlett had deluded herself. Her parents were not happy. Well, that as partly true. Her father was deliriously happy at having won Ellen Robillard's hand in marriage but the same could not be said for her mother. The cold, harsh truth should have hurt but instead, it felt like a veil was being lifted on her life and she could see clearly with the mature eyes of a woman much older than her seventeen years. Her mother did not love her father; or at least, she was not in love with him and Scarlett suddenly felt sorry for her. Sorry for all the years of heartache that apparently Ellen had put up with in her eighteen year marriage to Gerald and sorry for all the years of heartache that still lay ahead of her, like a long and winding road trailing off into infinity. Her mother was only thirty-three years old but for her, Scarlett realized, life was over.

And then, in a wheedling tone Gerald continued: "When I was mentioning the Tarletons the while ago, I wasn't pushing Brent. They're fine lads, but if it's Cade Calvert you're

setting your cap after, why, 'tis the same with me. The Calverts are good folk, all of them, for all the old man marrying a Yankee. And when I'm gone—Whist, darlin', listen to me! I'll leave Tara to you and Cade—"

"I wouldn't have Cade on a silver tray," cried Scarlett, startled out of her thoughts. "And I wish you'd quit pushing him at me! I want to love my husband," she stated with a proud tilt of her chin. "And my husband deserves to be loved, too."

Both Ellen and Gerald looked up at her and spurred on by the hopelessness of the situation, she added daringly: "I, for one, don't want to live out my days in a loveless marriage."


	7. Chapter 7

**I apologize that it has been SOOOO long since I've updated. I have really no excuse at all except for a bad case of writer's block and real life becoming all too real of late. This chapter is a shortie. Largely because I'm stuck on a sequence that comes immediately after this, so I decided rather than to hold onto this any longer, I'd post it and hope that inspiration comes to me soon so that Chapter 8 will get off the ground. Thanks to all of you who have been so kind with your reviews. I appreciate and treasure each and every one of them. Thanks again!!**

**So here we go…**

Chapter 7 - Atlanta

And so, the next day Scarlett left for Atlanta. She kept her eyes down and averted, pouting for all to see, playing the wounded and long-suffering daughter until the train pulled out of Jonesboro. Then, and only then, she raised her chin and her bright eyes sparkled as she watched the countryside fly by. She was free of her parent's supervision; she was going to Atlanta where surely she could live life as she chose—or at the very least, she could live freer than she could at Tara or under Grandfather's supervision in Savannah.

More important, she traveled with a light heart, knowing that Rhett had written her. Surely, he wouldn't have written multiple letters if he didn't feel—something. How she longed for those letters. What did his handwriting look like? She could only imagine that he wrote with strong, bold strokes. From where did he write? What did he say? Did he speak of his feelings for her or did he chat about his travels and business ventures? She could only wonder and the thought that she would never know what he wrote brought tears to her eyes. Why, oh, why would her mother burn the letters? Her mother had never done anything to intentionally hurt her before, ever. So the fact that suddenly Ellen had become cold and unmoving in her stance that Scarlett not have anything to do with Rhett mystified her. What was it about Rhett that bothered Ellen so much?

Scarlett heard the words spoken by her grandfather, "You're both cut from the same cloth; like mother, like daughter. I only hope you don't settle for some peasant immigrant like she did!" Was her mother in love with someone before her father that her family objected to? Scarlett couldn't stop these same questions from running through her mind last evening when she was packing. Mammy, who had been with Ellen as a child, was helping Scarlett pack her trunks and so Scarlett decided to take a direct approach.

"I don't know why Mother insists on sending me away. It didn't do any good when I went to Savannah and Grandfather was so hateful."

"Your mother is doin' whut she thinks is best for her lamb," soothed Mammy.

"Oh, I know, Mammy," Scarlett told her with a voice full of anguish, "but I don't understand. Grandfather said I was just like her. What did he mean?"

"He said whut?" Scarlett had Mammy's full attention now and Mammy was clearly irate. No one was going to get away with saying anything bad about Miss Ellen.

"He said that Mother sent me to Savannah to keep me from a bad match and that Mother and I were cut from the same cloth."

"Dat man! I can't believe 'im!" growled Mammy, slamming the trunk closed. "He dun never care much about your Mother after she dun left Savannah."

"Why did she leave on such bad terms?"

Mammy sized up Scarlett, trying to decide how much she could tell her without betraying Miss Ellen. Scarlett came in second only to Miss Ellen in Mammy's eyes.

"He didn't like your Pa."

"Oh, I know what," huffed Scarlett, disappointed that she didn't hear something that would tell her more about her mother's behavior. "So, then is Pa the bad match that he tried to prevent?"

"No…Dere was someone else," said Mammy slowly, her mind drifting back to the days when Ellen longed for her cousin Phillipe, a dark-haired, dark-eyed charmer.

"What? Who was it?" Scarlett scrambled off her bed and came to stand directly in front of Mammy.

"Whut?" startled by Scarlett's look of astonishment, Mammy realized too late that perhaps, she said too much and tried to cover her revelation. "No one special. She was jes lak you. She always had lots of beaux."

"I don't believe it! There was someone. You have to tell me. Please, Mammy."

"You need to behave yourself, Miss Scarlett! 'Tain't fittin', it ain't fittin'. You jes behave yourself in Atlanta."

For a moment, Scarlett felt like she was on the brink of a new discovery, a secret from her mother's past that would reveal why she was acting so harshly, but as it turned out, Scarlett's hopes were as fleeting as the countryside racing by outside the train window. She knew no more of her mother than she did before and for the first time in her life, Scarlett felt oddly estranged from the woman who she had adored and failed miserably at emulating for all the years of her young life.

Once in Atlanta, life settled into a routine that was not altogether unpleasant. Life in Sarah Jane Hamilton's household at the end of Peachtree Street was quiet and very well mannered. Everything was very ladylike, very genteel and overwhelmingly at odds with Scarlett's robust nature. However, strangely enough, she found a friend in Melanie Hamilton Wilkes. Once she despised Melanie with a childlike jealousy, but now that she knew Melanie better, she couldn't think of a match more suited to Ashley's studious, refined nature. She also felt sorry for Melanie, who was mourning the loss of her brother, Charles, who had died in camp, leaving his wife, Honey, a young widow.

Yes, life on Peachtree Street was pleasant and above all, it was exciting. There was so much commotion going on in Atlanta due to the war. The town was overflowing with newcomers and there were dances and balls of all kinds to raise money for the war effort and an equal number of committees that Scarlett was asked to serve upon. The men were all dashing in their uniforms and the rules of courtship, Scarlett noticed, seemed to be been loosened like the strings of a corset. Girls were courted by men who arrived without family introductions and they hastened to wed after just a few weeks. Girls were kissed by men hours after being introduced to them, something that was unheard of prior to the war and was mightily frowned upon by the matrons who attempted to chaperone these events. Best of all were the clothes. Admittedly, some items were hard to get and families were making do by modifying recipes and wearing shoes an extra season, but oh, the clothes that the blockaders brought in were so beautiful! Scarlett noticed immediately the many girls who wore the latest fashions brought in through the blockade from England and France and wondered how she could get them, too.

Scarlett took in all the gossip and longed for the fashionable clothes that she saw other young belles wearing and she listened intently to find out where she, too, could find them. It was then that she heard through the grapevine and the famous Captain Butler had run the lovely laces and frocks and frills through the blockade on his last trip.

"Was that Captain Rhett Butler?" she wondered aloud one morning to Melly and Aunt Pittypat. Pitty was oblivious, but Melanie informed Scarlett that indeed it was, and that from what she heard he had made frequent deliveries to Atlanta, which led many of the Old Guard to question why this blockader ventured so far inland when most of the others left their goods at the docks before setting back out to sea.

While Scarlett had matured in the last year and outgrown many of her childish habits, her vanity still fit her like a glove and when she heard this she couldn't help but question if Rhett was coming inland with the hopes of seeing her. But her bright smile was dashed at the next thought: he never came to Tara seeking her out! Well, horrid thought, he would think she wasn't interested because she never responded to his letters! Scarlett again cursed her mother for burning the letters and wondered for the umpteenth time what was in them. She even wondered forlornly how many there were. How many letters did he write before he gave up, thinking that she had dismissed him and was only toying with his affections that day at Twelve Oaks? Well, she'd just have to find him and explain. Surely, he would understand.

Finding Rhett Butler was not as easy as Scarlett initially thought. She quickly discovered that his name was bandied about easily enough whenever and wherever ladies gathered in their sewing circles. They talked about the fashions he brought in and then, the conversation quickly fell into gossip mongering about his scandalous background and his not being received by "good people." His bad reputation, however, was something that many people were willing to overlook—at least partially, due to his bravery at running the Union blockade. At the same time, their voices fell to whispers when they discussed the more personal side of his life, answering for themselves the question as to why he traveled to Atlanta when most blockaders stopped only at Wilmington, Charleston or Savannah. The ladies assumed it was because of a woman, which caused Scarlett to sit upright. She didn't know whether to be proud or cower in the corner since their opinion of the man seemed to sway back and forth like a clock pendulum. So lost in thought was she that she missed the next bit of chatter until she heard the name Belle Watling, whispered about and always preceded with the phrasing, "that woman, Belle Watling."

Scarlett remembered the name from the first day when she arrived in Atlanta. "That woman" she knew was the town's notorious bad woman and horrors, Rhett associated with her!

"I don't believe it!" Scarlett told herself, getting up from the sewing circle and tossing down the sock she was darning. She went out onto Mrs. Merriwether's porch to get some fresh air. The only problem was, from this vantage point, she couldn't overhear the conversation and learn where Rhett stayed during his visits to Atlanta. She moved toward the window but only picked up snippets of the conversation. She heard the National Hotel mentioned but had no idea if he was still in town. Furthermore, she told herself, she, an unmarried woman, couldn't be caught visiting a hotel for the purposes of meeting up with a man of Rhett's reputation. She leaned in closer to the window, almost to the point that she could have stuck her head inside.

"…back to Charleston where he belongs. Good riddance, I say," retorted Mrs. Merriwether.

So he had returned to Charleston. Well, that made sense, Scarlett reasoned. He'd return to the port city not only to embark on another voyage but also to see what he could of his family, if he chose to. Scarlett knew what she had to do and settled herself on the porch swing so that she could begin to formulate a plan.

She made her excuses to the ladies and set off for the telegraph office where she sent a telegram to her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline, telling them of her arrival in Charleston the next day. She signed the telegram with the name Ellen O'Hara. Later that afternoon, she whimpered as she told Melanie and Aunt Pitty that she was going to visit her aunts in Charleston. Her mother had mentioned in a letter from Tara that her aunts were so lonely and afraid with all the strangers in the city and would love a visit from their niece. Wanting to help out her family, Scarlett told them that she had agreed to the visit. Heartbroken, Melly and Aunt Pitty could only sob quietly as they helped Scarlett pack her bags and in the morning, they said their goodbyes when they bid her farewell at the depot.

* * *

No one was out in Atlanta's streets; virtually everyone was attending the Monster Bazaar to raise funds for the Cause. Even Melanie and Aunt Pitty were present, which was striking to the uninformed because of the fact that they were in mourning for Charles. But their presence was needed and no one would dare say no to the Cause. There were pretty speeches and a lot of pomp and circumstance, and then Doctor Meade, the bastion of the Old Guard, took the stage. He thanked the good ladies of the hospital committee for their untiring efforts to nurse the wounded. He thanked those who decorated the hall. And, then he asked for donations.

"We must have more money to buy medical supplies from England, and we have with us tonight the intrepid blockade runner who has so successfully brought in the goods that we have needed for the last year and who will run it again to bring us the drugs we need—Captain Rhett Butler!"

Though caught unaware, the blockader made a graceful bow—and as he did, he caught the eye of Melanie Wilkes and almost immediately, made his way to her side.

"Why—it's Mr.—I mean, it's Captain Rhett Butler," said Melanie with a smile of greeting, extending her hand. "I met you—"

"On the happy occasion of the announcement of your betrothal," he finished, bending over her hand. "It is kind of you to recall me."

"And what are you doing so far from Charleston, Captain Butler?"

"A boring matter of business, Mrs. Wilkes. I will be in and out of your town from now on. I find I must not only bring in goods but see to the disposal of them."

"Oh, yes, how silly of me—" began Melly, her brow wrinkling, and then she broke into a delighted smile, as she made the connection. "You are the famous Captain Butler we've been hearing so much about—the blockade runner. Why, every girl here is wearing dresses you brought in."

"Ah, yes. Business is business and it takes me away often, and, I must admit to getting homesick now and again. I met so many wonderful people in Clayton County when I was at Twelve Oaks that it is refreshing to see a friendly face. I've often wondered how everyone in the county have been faring in the last year."

"Well, I'm happy to oblige, Captain Butler," beamed Melanie. "I'm sorry to say, my brother, Charles, died for the Cause in the first month of the war."

"Oh, Mrs. Wilkes, I'm so sorry to hear that. But I might add, to die for one's country is to live forever."

"That is so true, thank you," she sniffed into her handkerchief. "Everyone else is doing better, thankfully. Oh, did you meet the O'Haras while you were in Clayton County? Oh, of course, you did! Now, I remember. I saw you walking with Miss O'Hara during the barbeque—"

"Ah, yes, Miss Scarlett O'Hara. I remember her well," stated Rhett, grateful that he didn't have to work hard to bring the conversation around to Scarlett. "How are the O'Haras doing?"

"Well, that was what I was going to say. They are the only ones I've been keeping up with, but that is largely because Scarlett has been our houseguest for the last month—"

"Miss O'Hara is here, in Atlanta?" Rhett stood up straight and quickly gazed around the hall.

"Yes—well, no. That is to say, she was here. She came to stay with us about a month ago. Then, just a few days ago, she heard from her aunts in Charleston and she left to visit them."

"So, she's in Charleston?" Rhett was dumbfounded. The story he gave Melanie earlier about coming to Atlanta to see to the disposal of his blockaded goods was a rehearsed speech that he decided to use to cover his real reason for venturing inland, to find Scarlett. She hadn't answered any of his letters, so to save face in the event that she had since taken up with another man, he needed a ruse. "Visiting her aunts, you say…"

"Yes, I don't think there was a problem, but they were alone and fearful. Aunt Pitty and I were so sad to see her go. After all, we are alone and a little fearful, too, so it was so reassuring to have Scarlett with us. She is so brave and we enjoyed having her live with us. Why just the other day—" Melanie was cut off as a customer came to her booth and inquired about one of the items for sale. "If you will excuse me, Captain Butler—" she said, begging his leave.

"Oh, of course. It was a pleasure seeing you again Mrs. Wilkes."

Back at the hotel, Rhett threw the few things he had with him into his valise with every intention of getting the first train out of Atlanta for Charleston.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to everyone who has hung in there with this story. I promise, it will not go unfinished. Here goes another chapter.**

Chapter 8 - Charleston

Scarlett made herself comfortable in her Aunt Eulalie's home just as she had done in Pittypat Hamilton's home in Atlanta. That is to say that she was as comfortable as she could possibly be in Charleston where her freedom was nearly as restricted as it was at Tara. She certainly did not enjoy the independence that she had grown accustomed to in Atlanta, nor did she have a friend her own age to share her daily life, an aspect of life that in retrospect she now surely missed. Where once she dismissed Melanie as a ninny, she now realized that in the last few weeks she had established an alliance with her once-time rival that was just beginning to bud into a friendship—a friendship, which was now noticeably absent in her life.

In the week that she had been in Charleston, Scarlett's Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie had dragged her to virtually every sewing circle, hospital committee meeting and fundraiser that was scheduled in the city. Scarlett was grateful for their introductions because on the second day of her visit, she was introduced to Eleanor Butler, Rhett's mother, and his sister, Rosemary. She had gladly tagged along thereafter to any ladies get-together where the Mrs. Butler was likely to appear with her young daughter in tow, hoping that by sticking close to them she would either see or hear something of Rhett's whereabouts.

It wasn't until nearly an entire week had passed of long, insufferable committee meetings that were as dull as schoolwork that it dawned on Scarlett that she wasn't likely to learn anything from Mrs. Butler. Rhett wasn't received, so he wouldn't be likely to surprise his mother at her sewing circle, nor was Mrs. Butler inclined to talk about her son before her straight laced audience that certainly didn't approve of him anymore than his father did.

Scarlett was itching to get a glimpse of Rhett's father, but that wasn't to be either. Word was that he was at Dunmore Landing, the Butler family rice plantation, which was up the river.

Scarlett enjoyed Mrs. Butler's company and thought her a very nice lady, who bore a striking resemblance in facial expressions and mannerisms to her own mother. She also learned that he had a little sister, Rosemary, who was about Careen's age and had just put up her hair and lowered her skirts, although she had few beaux as there was none to be had.

One evening Scarlett brought up the subject of Rhett while dining with her aunts and was shocked at their reaction.

"You mustn't even mention his name, my dear Scarlett. He isn't received," stated Pauline matter-of-factly.

Eulalie turned to Scarlett and her face turned red with indignation. "My dear, don't even breathe his name. No, dearie, he is a blackguard, a man not to be trusted. He is the son of my best friend and I'm sure Eleanor is so ashamed at all he has done. My heart breaks for her but even so, I cannot have his name mentioned in this house." Her voice quivered with anger but when seeing Scarlett's shocked face, she softened, "And by you, dear, such a sweet, young innocent. I hope that you never have to lay eyes on the scoundrel. He is a cad of the highest order. Now, I don't want to waste another moment speaking of such a person."

As Scarlett lay in bed that evening in Eulalie's great home with a high walled garden on the Battery, sleep would not come. She stared at the ceiling thinking that the odds of Rhett courting her here in Charleston were probably slimmer than if she had stayed at Tara under her mother's watchful eye. However, she still held out hope that she could find him and at least get word to him someway—somehow. She knew she couldn't stay here indefinitely. Sooner or later, Eulalie or Pauline were bound to communicate with her mother or vice-versa. Fortunately for Scarlett, her aunts were poor correspondents and rarely wrote to her mother. Moreover, with all the activity at Tara with making it produce to support the war effort, Ellen had very little time to write to her sisters. To stall the inevitable, Scarlett drafted a letter to her mother telling her activities in Atlanta and happenings with the war and nursing. She dated the letter and took it to the Charleston depot and asked a woman boarding the next train to Atlanta to post the letter on her behalf when she arrived at the depot.

She took her time heading back Eulalie's home since she had the whole day before her. To pass the time when she wasn't committee-bound, Scarlett daydreamed about meeting up with Rhett. To that end, under the guise of needing some fresh air and exercise, she would often excuse herself every afternoon for an hour to take a walk. Where she walked, her aunts never quite knew. They assumed she was strolling around their home and the neighboring homes on the Battery. And, to some degree, she was. However, her afternoon walks often lead her much further a field than they would have wanted her to venture. She would walk throughout the Battery, often strolling slowly in front of the Butler mansion, imagining what it was like for Rhett to grow up there. She would walk leisurely through White Point Gardens and stare out toward Fort Sumter, which was a dot on the horizon, wondering if Rhett was out there navigating the blockade. But most daring of all, she would wander down by the docks where the blockaders unloaded their booty, desperately scanning the crowds for some sign of Rhett.

No one knew where she went on these afternoons and they would be horrified if they did know, for an unmarried girl did not venture alone to these places, particularly not when the town was swarming with strangers from out-of-town that no one knew. It simply wasn't safe. Why anything could happen! Or, so the ladies said whenever more than one met on the street.

Aside from her daily treks out on Charleston's streets, the only thing keeping Scarlett sane was when she hid herself away in Aunt Eulalie attic. She discovered their attic when Aunt Eulalie had asked her to investigate their loom, which had long since been retired. It had been put out of commission years ago but now, given the times they lived in, Scarlett's aunts decided they needed to put the old loom back into service and wondered if it was still in working condition, which is why they sent Scarlett to the attic. After that day, Scarlett would go there whenever she could sneak away for even a few minutes. It gave her a place to think and that is where she headed now. High in the house, it provided a breathtaking view of Charleston's harbor and she could imagine all kinds of things, most of which involved Rhett and sent shivers down her spine and made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

On this particular afternoon, she arrived back home and finding it empty, she climbed the stairs to the attic and settled into the chair that she had pulled over to the window where she had a bird's eye view of the harbor. The sun was shining brightly but a tropical ocean breeze blew through the open window, which kept the attic cooler than it would be otherwise. Scarlett sat there for some time, lost in thought—all of a romantic nature. It was only when the breeze blew so strongly that it slammed shut the attic door, which Scarlett always kept discreetly cracked open so that she could be alerted to any sounds of anyone coming into the house. Scarlett jumped at the sound and went to investigate, finding everything in order, she was making her way back to the window when a sheet of paper sticking out from a crack in the bottom of an old trunk caught her eye.

Scarlett picked it up, mesmerized by the words on the page:

…_My love, you are my heart and my soul. Being apart from you for even a moment, is unbearable, but to be stricken from your life, well, that is unfathomable._

_I am not willing to give up all the joys in this life to adhere to society's rules. No, not I. Call me young, call me brash but that is how I feel. I am in love and nothing, nothing can stop us from being together. Do you hear? Nothing!_

_I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night…_

_My love for you, darling, is boundless. I miss your smile, the burning light in your eyes and your touch. I cannot bear this separation a moment longer. Lest I __should not be able to write you again, I feel I must make plans in the event that the worst comes to be._

Scarlett held the faded paper in hands that shook. Who wrote this? The handwriting wasn't particularly masculine or feminine. Aunt Eulalie's husband had been dead since before the War and what Scarlett could remember of him from her childhood, wasn't very favorable. He was stodgy and embarrassingly shy. He barely said a word to anyone and only nodded now and again and smoked like a house afire. "He couldn't possibly be the one who wrote this letter," Scarlett mused aloud, nor did she think Eulalie had it in her to write it. "Could it be Aunt Pauline's letter?" she wondered. Aunt Pauline lived on a plantation up the river with her husband, Uncle Carey, a little old man, with a formal,

brittle courtesy and the absent air of one living in an older age. "Certainly, he couldn't have penned this letter." That left Scarlett to conclude that it was from her Aunt Pauline, who was certainly a romantic. She was always reading novels and gossiping about Charleston's matches and yes, even the mesalliances. Yet, Scarlett didn't feel confident that she penned the letter either. "I can't imagine her being that passionate about Uncle Carey!" She opened the trunk to search for the missing pages when she heard the front door bang closed downstairs and she deftly closed the trunk and, walking on tiptoe to avoid the squeaky floorboards, she made her way down the attic stairs and into the main upstairs hallway.

"Aunt Eulalie! Is that you?" Scarlett called.

"Why, yes, Scarlett dear. Are you ready to go to work at the hospital with me?"

* * *

Scarlett spent the greater part of that afternoon going through the motions of tending the wounded while ruminating on who wrote that passionate letter and to whom. The intrigue was almost more than Scarlett could bear and she lay awake that night wondering about the delicious possibilities. With no one's name claiming the letter, Scarlett could imagine that those words were Rhett's to her and it filled her with a wild anticipation. Over the past year, Scarlett's dreams of Rhett had only intensified. Initially, her feelings were fueled by her sorrow in his sudden departure from Twelve Oaks and then, his lack of any response through calls or letters. But in the more recent months, her romantic dreams burned brighter than ever based on two factors: the knowledge that he had written her and her mother's obstinacy that forbade Scarlett from associating with him.

Knowing that Rhett was interested and that her mother—and everyone for that matter—didn't want her to associate with him—made a possible alliance all that much more alluring.

So it was no surprise that the very next morning while she was surveying a bushel of turnips at the open air market on Meeting Street that her heart stopped when she felt a pair of eyes on her only to look up and find Rhett Butler staring at her from across the aisle. Black eyes met green and locked for an indeterminate time for everything seemed to stop—all motion, all sounds and Scarlett was only aware of the sound of her blood rushing through her ears and the loud, thundering beating of her heart. He didn't say a word, but tilted his head toward the corner—far away from the produce stands. In silent understanding, Scarlett set down her would-be purchases and casually looked to her left and right. Finding Eulalie in deep conversation with Eleanor Butler, Scarlett maneuvered over to her side and made her apologies, explaining that she didn't feel well and planned to return home. Too deep in conversation to take much notice, Eulalie simply nodded and Scarlett slipped away through the crowd.


	9. Chapter 9

**It's been a long time…but the story is back. I can't promise fast updates but I'm continuing and I hope all of you enjoy. Thanks so much for all your feedback and encouragement.**

Chapter 9 – A Reunion

Scarlett maneuvered around the long bins of produce and around the thongs of women mulling about in large groups, some examining the goods while others merely gathered at the market to harvest the latest gossip. When she finally alighted through the crowd, she looked up for Rhett but a passing carriage blocked her view of the corner so she had to wait, wait for one carriage and then another to pass before she nearly skipped across the street in her anxiousness to see him again. She arrived at the corner slightly breathless, looked about and not finding Rhett anywhere, her face fell.

"Your face looks so beautiful when you're smiling. What do I have to do to see those dimples again?" came a smooth, drawling voice from over her shoulder.

With no warning, there he was, whispering into her ear from behind. She spun around and nearly lost her balance, so he raised his hands to her arms to steady her. She blushed and wrung her hands as he looked at her expectantly with a smirk on his face but no words came forth. She gulped. So he had noticed her. Had he sought her out?

How unutterably dear he was standing there with his eyes twinkling. Was he unaware of her excitement? She could not speak, but she put out a hand and laid it on his arm. He looked down at her tiny white hand on his gray linen suit, his stare so long that Scarlett's eyes, too, fell on her hand and she quickly withdrew it, embarrassed by her familiarity with this man who she hadn't seen in well over a year.

"It is good seeing you again, Captain Butler," she said once having regained a modicum of her composure. "It is Captain, isn't it? I've heard all the stories about your blockade running." She threw him a gay smile.

"Don't start flirting with me, Miss O'Hara, or is it Mrs. now? Is there a ring on your finger?" he asked casually yet his eyes were eager for an answer.

"Yes, it is still Miss," she answered coyly. "Why do you ask?" She spoke each word slowly as if she knew his answer full well and only wanted to draw out the suspense so that she could make the moment his answer came last.

"Well, I would have thought that a girl like you would have rushed headlong into marriage within the first months of the war breaking out. Surely you have noticed the glut of marriages of late? I find it hard to imagine that you, Scarlett O'Hara, the belle of—what—three counties—would still be _unattached_." He stressed the last word as he looked into her eyes as if searching for something.

Scarlett stared at him dumbfounded. This was not the answer she anticipated nor was this reunion going as she expected. He seemed so reserved, wary and unsure as though he were circling a wild horse, trying to find his best position before throwing his lasso. She had envisioned a passionate meeting with her running into his arms and him grinning widely as he picked her up and twirled her around.

"You underestimate me, sir. I am not that impetuous," she retorted, avoiding his eyes, until her longing to gaze upon his handsome face got the best of her and once again, her eyes rose up to meet his and she couldn't help but repress a smile.

"Ah, so you get high marks for your cautious approach to wedlock, but alas, I'll have to mark you down for your poor skills at correspondence."

"Correspondence? What do you mean—?"

Rhett quickly averted his eyes. "Nothing—," he answered abruptly. "Here, let's get out of the line of traffic," he said, taking her elbow in his hand and steering her away from the main thoroughfare and onto a side street that led to a residential area.

Once they stopped on the walk, Scarlett turned to face him and stared unflinchingly into his eyes. "I never got them."

"What?" Rhett asked casually, as he struck a match to light the cheroot he had withdrawn from his jacket pocket.

"Your letters."

"My what?" For a brief second Scarlett noticed that her admission has taken Rhett Butler by surprise. He froze in mid-motion as if he hung on her answer. She paused, savoring the moment and waiting, watching and dimpling while the match Rhett held burned down to his fingers. "Damn!" he swore, dropping the match to the ground and rubbing it out with the toe of his freshly polished boot.

"Are you all right?" she inquired with an unusually sugary sweet drawl.

"Yes! Yes!" he replied, sounding slightly annoyed as he brushed a cinder off his jacket.

Once she was confident she had regained his attention she continued under his questioning gaze. "Your letters to me," Scarlett answered with a smile. "You wrote me letters and I'm here to tell you that I never received them."

"Well, then how did you know—?"

"My mother. She told me you sent me letters—"

"Then why—"

"She burned them." Her voice didn't waver as her eyes pierced his. After a moment the intense seriousness that framed her face fell away and she turned coy. "You do know what that means, don't you?" She strolled ahead of him, paused and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Aside from the obvious, you mean? That your moth—" He trailed after her, looking down upon her as she took a seat on a bench in front of a shop window on the secluded side street.

"It means," she folder her hands demurely in her lap, "that now you have to relate each and every detail of your letters to me—now—in _person_," her voice caressed this last word.

"Slow down. I have this strange feeling that I just arrived at the theater as act two is beginning to play out. Tell me, what did I miss in act one?" he asked, taking a seat on the bench beside her.

"Nothing terribly exciting, really. You saw my mother when you left Twelve Oaks, didn't you? You even heard her tell me how she didn't approve of my associating with you."

"Yes, I know all that. For years, I've been persona non grata in these environs, so it doesn't surprise me that my reputation preceded me to Clayton County, arriving at your mother's ears from some gossip monger attending the barbeque."

"Well, you are right about that. In any case, she didn't like what she heard and she—"

"She put down her foot about you having anything to do with me."

"Yes."

"And like a dutiful daughter you—"

"I didn't listen."

"Excuse me?"

Scarlett thought she saw a gleam of admiration in his eyes. "You heard me. Oh, Rhett! I waited for you. I thought you'd visit me at Tara and when you didn't well…I think my mother suspected something so my parents shipped me off to—"

"Atlanta," Rhett finished for her.

"No. First they sent me to Savannah. There, my grandfather, a cranky old man if ever there was one, told me that my mother had sent me to him to avoid a bad match. He even said I was just like my mother, alluding to something similar in her past, which I don't know about. I wasn't about to sit there while he insulted my family, and me so I left.

"Only my mother and father were not too happy to find me back at home and so, they sent me to Atlanta. I suggested Charleston, but they were not about to send me here," she said, pausing for emphasis, "where I would likely run into you."

"Well, then how did you—"

"I came here on my own. I wired my mother's sister here, Aunt Eulalie, and told her that I would be arriving shortly."

"And how did you finally convince your mother to let you come to Charleston?"

"I didn't."

Rhett's eyes looked questioningly at Scarlett's so she gave me the answer he sought. "Aunt Eulalie assumed the telegram came from my mother."

"Did she assume or did you lead her to believe it came from you mother?"

"Oh, just never mind that!"

"And are you prepared for your mother's wrath when she finds out that you deceived not just her but your aunts here as well?"

"Oh, Rhett! Let's not think about that now," Scarlett said brightly for the conversation was turning far too serious and reminded her of her plight should her mother ever discover her deception. However, now that she found Rhett, things were looking up. How could her mother be angry with her if she were engaged to Rhett, a blockade runner? In fact, if her plans proceeded as she expected, she would not have to worry about her mother because with the glut of war marriages, they might even elope and what could her mother say then other to wish her daughter happiness? "Let's think about that tomorrow!"

"As you wish my devious charmer."

At that moment, he stood and extended his hand to her. "Will you be so kind as to accompany me on a tour of Charleston or are you needed with your aunts?"

"I'm be most happy to, kind sir," Scarlett replied, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Well, then, we're off," Rhett answered and tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, they set off down the street at a leisurely stroll.

* * *

It was so exciting being with Rhett and he showed her a Charleston she never dreamed of. Just yesterday, Charleston was a hustling, dusty town at the epicenter of the war; today, the Charleston Rhett showed her was charming and tranquil, sequestering the two in a bubble that Scarlett hoped never to burst.

He started by taking her to a little pastry shop housed in the narrowest home she had ever seen on a quiet, unassuming residential street. The home was constructed in between two towering mansions, but with its yellow and white painted exterior, it looked cheery and welcoming to passersby. Rhett steered her by the elbow up the front porch where a red-faced rotund woman greeted them as if they were old friends. Inside, Rhett playfully pinched the woman's cheek until her eyes watered from giggling.

"Oh, Rhett, you awful thing you! Where have you been?" she asked, eyeing Scarlett up and down.

"Here and there. You know me, Ellie. Never can stay put in one place too long. But I have to admit, whenever I'm away from Charleston, I dream of you and your pastries."

The woman doubled over again in another bout of giggles and Scarlett silently begged Rhett to stop flirting long enough for the woman to help them place an order. "For heaven's sakes, he's as bad as I am!" she thought while observing their interaction. Finally, Rhett moved to the counter and chose two confections, doused in powered sugar. Ellie wrapped them in paper, tied with a bow and after she bestowed a big, sloppy kiss on Rhett's cheek, they went on their way.

"Where are we going?" Scarlett inquired, who was all too eager to indulge in the pastries.

"You'll see," was Rhett's only response as he again, took her by the arm and steered her down the walkway toward another street.

A couple of minutes later, they arrived at a quiet residential park thick with willow trees and tall oaks. Rhett found them a secluded bench on which to sit. He unwrapped the pastries and invited her to take one.

"Oh, I haven't had anything like this in an age!" Scarlett exclaimed, diving right in with a big bite, which only left her upper lip and nose covered in the sugary white powder. "Where does she get her ingredients? I can't remember when I last saw white sugar," she mumbled with her mouth full.

"She has her connections, I suppose."

"You?"

"Me?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Why would you think that? I'm here to serve our Glorious Cause. I wouldn't think of risking my life to bring in luxury items," he said with bravado, covering this heart with his hand.

"I don't believe you."

"What? I risk my life to serve Our Glorious Cause and you doubt my sincerity?"

"Yes."

"No matter," he replied, taking his own bite of the sugary confection. "But that's exactly what I like about you. You say what you think; to hell with what others may say. My first impression of you was right. You're a girl who is not only beautiful, but who has courage, too."

Basking in his flattery, it was on the tip of Scarlett's tongue to try and tease another compliment from him, but remembering his earlier caution about flirting, she turned to another subject. "But truly, you've become quite the famous blockader. Why there's talk all over Atlanta about how brave you are and what a—what a—"

"I can't bear to take advantage of your little girl ideals any longer. I'm a blockader—for profit and profit alone. The other stuff doesn't mean much to me."

"You mean to tell me you don't care about The Cause?" Scarlett asked with her mouth agape.

"Rhett Butler is the only cause I care about. Blockading is a business with me and I'm making money out of it. When I stop making money out of it, I'll quit. I leave on another trip tomorrow—"

"You're leaving—so soon?"

"Dare I hope that you'll miss me?"

"Oh, don't presume!"

"Ah, so you will miss me. Knowing that a spirited girl with fire in her green eyes is pining for me will certainly take some of the loneliness out of the voyage, but cheer up, I won't be taking too many more. What do you think of that?" he asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

Not sure how to interpret his last comment, Scarlett decided to plead ignorance. "What do you mean? You are not going to continue blockading?"

"Exactly," he grinned. "Right now the Yankees are helping me make my money. Why, last month I sailed my boat right into New York harbor and took on a cargo."

"What!" cried Scarlett, interested and excited in spite of herself. "Didn't they shell you?"

"My poor innocent! Of course not. There are plenty of sturdy Union patriots who are not averse to picking up money selling goods to the Confederacy. I run my boat into New York, buy from Yankee firms, sub rosa, of course, and away I go. And when that gets a bit dangerous, I go to Nassau where these same Union patriots have brought powder and shells and hoop skirts for me. It's more convenient than going to England. Sometimes it's a bit difficult running it into Charleston or Wilmington—but you'd be surprised how far a little gold goes."

"Oh, I knew Yankees were vile but I didn't know—"

"Why quibble about the Yankees earning an honest penny selling out the Union? It won't matter in a hundred years. The result will be the same. They know the Confederacy will be licked eventually, so why shouldn't they cash in on it?"

"Licked—us?"

"Of course."

Despite the heat, Scarlett shivered at his words as their full meaning set in. Noticing her discomfort, Rhett took the last bite of his pastry. "In any case, when the Yankees stop helping me make money, I'll stop and that's why I say I won't be taking too many more excursions. I see you're enjoying the pastry," he observed, changing the subject deftly.

"Ummmm, isn't this good? Why it is pure heaven!" Scarlett exclaimed, licking some of the sugar off her fingers.

"You look like a child with birthday cake all over her face," Rhett pointed out.

"Really? Oh, I don't really care. This is too good!"

"I must say, I don't think I've ever been entertained quite so much while watching someone eat." Rhett leaned back and rubbed his hands together to dust off any lingering powder as Scarlett continued eating.

"Are you finished already? How did you stay so neat?" Scarlett scrutinized Rhett, who lounged easily on the bench, not a hair out of place, not a speck of sugar on his lips or on his mustache.

"It's a gift. You on the other hand…well," he said as he appraised her from head to toe. "You…ahem…I'm afraid you need a…a…bath."

"Oh, you!" cried Scarlett, trying desperately to dust herself off. She brushed her face with her fingers and stood to shake crumbs from her skirt. "There. Is that better?"

"Sit down." Rhett reached for her hand and drew her back to the bench, settling her close beside him. "You overlooked a few areas," he mused as his eyes scanned her face. "Like here," he whispered, brushing his finger over the tip of her nose. "And, here." He leaned in closer and his thumb, feather light, caressed her cheek. His eyes sought out hers and held tight, their eyes locked in a trance with neither seemingly wanting to risk a movement that would break the spell.

Scarlett sat breathless with anticipation. "He's going to take a liberty. He's going to kiss me," she told herself and without any conscious effort, her lips parted slightly and trembled under his steady gaze. She had already decided to let him take a liberty for it had been so long since he had kissed her last and that memory alone had sustained her for the last year and a half. But he made no move to kiss her. He simply stared at her as if he was memorizing every nuance of her face.

Scarlett sat motionless, frozen by Rhett's gaze, sensing that she was on the brink of something but what she didn't know. The bells in Saint Michael's began to toll the hour; still their gaze never wavered. The bells chimed…one…two…three…and then, it seemed as if time stood still. Scarlett inhaled sharply as Rhett's thumb lightly traced her full lips.

Four…five…six… Scarlett turned her lips into Rhett's waiting palm, inexplicably moved to lightly caress his thumb with her parted lips, moistening them with her tongue before bestowing a gentle kiss.

Seven…eight…nine…Scarlett watched Rhett from underneath her lowered lashes and despite the dream-like stillness with her blood rushing through her ears, she saw a crack in Rhett's cool control as he sucked in a breath at her touch. Then, with black eyes that appeared to burn with a golden fire, he leaned toward her until his lips were mere inches from hers.

Ten…eleven…the bells tolled and Scarlett closed her eyes and turned her lips up toward his. The bells struck for the twelfth time but instead of feeling his lips upon hers, she felt his fingers tuck a wisp of her hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear. Her questioning eyes looked to his for an answer.

"Come, let's walk," he said, pulling a bewildered Scarlett up by the arm.


	10. Chapter 10

**Everyone has been so wonderfully patient with me and I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. Thanks for all the encouragement and wonderful reviews; they really do spur me on. Thanks again!**

Chapter 10 – Exploring Charleston

The afternoon continued along in a similar manner. One moment, Rhett and Scarlett were friendly, conversing easily; the next, they were more than friendly and there was a jolt of energy between the two, which more often than not, was caused by some unexpected touch. Their arms touched or hands brushed the others. The contact, whether it was between hands, shoulders or eyes caused Scarlett's face to flush, palms grow sweaty and her breath to hitch. Afterwards, the atmosphere seemed stilted with neither knowing quite what to say, both seemingly reticent to admit or bow to the powerful magnetism which was drawing them closer and closer and then farther apart as they moved about Charleston like chess pieces on a board; one step forward, two steps back. One moment, they were engaged in conversation, filling each other in on their activities during the past year; the very next moment, Rhett fell silent as if unable or unwilling to divulge any information. One moment, they were walking arm in arm like lovers, her head nearly resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting atop her head and the next, Rhett would smoothly change the subject, distancing himself both mentally and physically from Scarlett, letting go of her arm only to stuff his hands in his pants pockets as they strolled the cobble stoned streets.

During this time Rhett showed her his Charleston. The Charleston he grew up in. The city that made him the man he was today. He pointed out the mansions of the upper crust residents who lived south of Broad Street, the line of demarcation from the haves and the have-even-mores. He pointed out Hibernian Hall, the scene of a long ago confrontation between a young Rhett and his domineering father. They strolled along the Ashley River where he had gotten his first taste for sailing. He told her all about Moses, an old darky fisherman, who had taken him under his wing and taught Rhett about all the inlets, shoals and shallows that make the river unique to Charleston's lowlands. In short, he told her everything about himself except what she desperately wanted to hear: that he loved her.

There were times when Scarlett was sure that he felt as she did. There were moments when she caught him looking at her like a cat at a mouse hole, waiting or wondering—about something, but what? It was maddening! There was an incident where she nearly twisted her ankle on a cobblestone and stumbled before Rhett caught her in his arms. Not for the first time that day, she was positive that he was about to kiss her. He looked at her so strangely and his black eyes blazed in a strange way. Scarlett was sure she saw the fire of passion burning in his eyes and interpreted it as longing, but then scoffed at that absurd idea because just as suddenly as it sparked, the fire burned out and his face was wiped clean except for an honest concern for her well being.

"I'm fine, Rhett, but let's sit down, shall we? I feel like we've been walking for hours." With that, Scarlett surveyed their surroundings on the banks of the Ashley River and dropped down onto the soft grass. "Ah, it does feel good to sit down. Please join me," she pleaded, looking up at Rhett and extending her hand to him.

"I thought you wanted to stroll along the river," he answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I did and we did. Can't we rest for awhile?"

Rhett nodded, doffed his jacket and sat down in the grass.

"Besides, you never did tell me…" Scarlett began demurely.

"Tell you what?"

"Exactly what you wrote to me in your letters."

"Hmmm," Rhett replied absently, apparently engrossed in the cigar he withdrew from his jacket pocket.

"So…"

"So what?"

"Tell me. Tell me what you wrote."

"Oh, that. Well, nothing terribly exciting. I wrote about my travels. The weather mostly, the cargo we loaded. The blockade itself. The war. That's about it."

"Rhett, you may think that I'm a simpleton from Clayton County, but no man, even any of the County boys, would write a woman a letter like that," she explained, batting her lashes.

"What would you like me to say? That I wrote that I was madly in love with you?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

While Scarlett had grown accustomed to his mood running hot and cold, she didn't expect this. "Nevermind," she said dully. "Are you really so adverse to giving a girl a compliment?"

"No. Not at all. In fact," he said, resting his weight on his one arm and leaning toward her, "would it please you if I said your eyes were twin goldfish bowls filled to the brim with the clearest green water and that when the fish swim to the top, as they are doing now, you are devilishly charming?"

"Oh, I don't like that," Scarlett said, tossing her head. They sat quietly for awhile, then she added: "I suppose that not everyone is skilled at letter writing."

"I bare my heart to you and cut me. Oh, my dear, how that hurts!" he said with much bravado.

"Oh, stop it will you!" she retorted and then turned away from him for she feared what he would read her utter disappointment in her face if he caught sight of it, even if just for a moment.

"Scarlett, come now!" Rhett caught her chin in his hand and turned her back to him and what he saw in her eyes made his darken considerably. He drew a breath and tried to lighten the situation. "Listen, I heard from Frank Kennedy, my friend, and yours I might add, that you were the most hard-hearted woman in Georgia. Don't tell me you've turned soft."

With that, Scarlett's eyes filled with tears but they didn't fall. She lifted her chin and fixed her gaze on the river, leaving his question unanswered. After a moment or two of silence, she gathered her skirts about her and stood. "I think I better get back to my aunts now. They are sure to be wondering where I am," she said stiffly.

"Scarlett, you don't have to leave."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Now be sensible."

"I am being sensible," she said, turning to look down upon him sitting in the grass. "I am nothing if not practical! And, that's precisely the reason I need to get home."

"And ruin a perfectly good afternoon?" Rhett cajoled her.

"Yes, and if you're not coming with me, I'll bid you a 'good afternoon' right now, Captain Butler."

"Now, Scarlett…" Rhett scrambled up to follow Scarlett, who had had collected her wits and was walking to the main path that would take her back to Charleston proper.

"Don't 'now Scarlett' me!"

He seemed as if delighted by her fury and he chuckled lightly. "Now, you're just like the girl I met at Tara before the war started. A girl who speaks her mind and isn't afraid to wear a pair of men's trousers if she sees fit."

"That's right! And I will speak my mind. Who do you think you are, Captain Butler?" she scolded, waving her finger at him. "Who do you think you are to parade me all through Charleston and then act like a coward when I ask you a simple question."

"A coward?"

"Yes. I'm no romantic fool you can take advantage of. Yes, maybe you can out-think me with all your education. Yes, you can probably even outwit me with your sarcastic running commentary, but I'll be damned if you'll make me look like an idiot!" Scarlett took off at a brisk pace, leaving Rhett standing on the banks of the river as she made her way up the hill.

"Why you little fool!" Rhett took off after her and when he was a couple feet from her, he reached out to grab her arm and swung her around. The force of it and the incline of the hill brought her forcibly into his arms, which surprised them both and they stood silently staring at each other, their bodies pressed up against each other so closely that they could each feel the others deep breaths from the exertion of climbing the hill. They were literally thrown together. Prognosticators would say it was fate that threw them together. Whatever it was, they each searched the others eyes and each thinking they found what they so desperately sought, with a frenzy born of long subdued passion, they frantically pulled the other closer in a mélange of failing arms, searching hands, grasping fingers and hungry lips. Their mouths and arms clung one to the other as if holding on for dear life. Scarlett had dreamed of this moment since their last embrace at Tara but dreams have a way of going fuzzy, blurring and softening with time just as champagne loses its bubbles once uncorked. The reality of this embrace was far stronger than her dreams and far more potent. To someone unaccustomed to such passion, she quickly became intoxicated.

"Please, please, stop or I'll faint."

"I want to make you faint. This is what you were meant for. I bet no one has ever kissed you like this."

"No. No…" she whimpered, too weak to even talk, not even wanting to. Wanting only to be kissed dizzy just as he was kissing her now.

"Do you really want to know what was in my letters?" Rhett finally whispered into her ear in a voice ragged with passion.

Scarlett opened her eyes and looked into his and nodded, swallowing hard in anticipation of what was to come.

"I told you with much sentiment how much I've wanted you. And I still do. I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you at Tara, riding around in pants and as dirty and smelly as a street urchin. I've wanted you more than I have ever wanted any woman and I've waited longer for you than I've waited for any woman. And now, now that I finally have you in my arms I thought you'd be interested to know it."

She was interested and much more. This was the kind of passionate declaration she had yearned for. Now, if he would just ask her to marry him everything would be perfect. But instead, he just held her tightly in a warm embrace and eventually, the trembling in his arms quieted. He was ever so gentle now. His lips brushed her hair and his large hands caressed her back. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of tobacco, leather and horses, comforting smells because they reminded her of Gerald. Neither spoke. No declaration came forth but Scarlett didn't mind, she was, for now, content to stay tucked in his warm, sheltering embrace for as long as he would hold her.

It was the sound of music coming from a gazebo further up the riverbank that reminded them both that they were not alone. Reluctantly, they loosened their hold on one another and each took a step back. It was then that Scarlett realized that something was different. While they had physically stepped apart, Scarlett felt more a part of Rhett than before and knew that in that moment, her love for Rhett had come to fruition.

The familiar melody of "Aura Lee" floated down to them but to Scarlett, the sweet tones meant nothing but an intrusion. She was right.

"Shall we join the populous?" Rhett asked, bowing slightly and waving his hand toward the gazebo where a crowd was now gathering.

Scarlett nodded and she took the arm he offered her, but again, it was as if everything had suddenly changed. While they had walked arm-in-arm throughout the day, this time, he covered her small hand that hung onto his arm with his free hand as if he wanted to keep her securely by his side. As they approached the gazebo, Scarlett recognized the musicians as members of the Home Guard. After finishing "Aura Lee," they broke into a bright rendition of "The Bonnie Blue Flag." The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Scarlett looked up to Rhett trying her hardest to hold back the words she longed to say but remembering her hard learned lessons at Ellen's knee and reinforced on a daily basis by Mammy, she kept silent. However, with or without words, her face was easy to read by Rhett and anyone who passed by for her adoration was poorly concealed. At the look in her face, Rhett's stance stiffened but then, as if thinking the better of it, he gave her a wide grin and pressed the hand on his arm even tighter.

The sun was setting as the neighborhood concert came to the end of yet another number. As the sky turned from blue to a watercolor painting of orange, pink and purple, the musicians set down their instruments and a single violinist stepped forward for what Scarlett could only assume was a solo. He started playing a lilting melody that Scarlett immediately felt drawn to though she knew it wasn't one of the currently popular songs.

"Ah, Canon in D. It's one of my favorites. Do you like it?" Rhett asked.

"It's lovely," murmured Scarlett, thoroughly enthralled with the music. So hypnotized was she by it that she closed her eyes and swayed back and forth in time to the music. Scarlett was totally unaware that her face had undergone a transformation; she was utterly serene and unaffected by anything. Her rose-red lips parted slightly and curved in an alluring smile of pure enjoyment. The breeze that had kicked up as the sun set ruffled her hair, loosening it from its elaborate up-do and blowing dark wisps about her pale face and softly blushed cheeks. From the moment that Rhett had first laid eyes on the cleaned up Scarlett—the young woman he had first met that evening during supper at Tara—he had thought her beautiful. But he had been wrong. Beautiful didn't even begin to describe her. Seeing her now, here, in this light and having had once again held her nubile body in his arms, he found her irresistibly fascinating and irrevocably breathtaking.

Rhett looked upon her face and it bewitched him and so lost in the music was she that Scarlett did not even notice Rhett turning to stand before her until he took her in his arms and started dancing with her. It was an experience Scarlett could never have imagined. The sun was setting, leaving a sky splashed with bold hues in its wake. The crowd had dissipated and the violinist approached the couple, giving them their own personal serenade. The crowd stood in silent witness to the pair, dancing to what many would consider a matrimonial nocturne. And for Scarlett, it was. They danced under an archway formed by trees that linked their branches to form a canopy above the lovers. If Scarlett had been adored in her mother's white wedding dress and had there been a minister present, she wouldn't have felt more bound to Rhett.

* * *

The bells in St. Michael's tolled nine o'clock as Rhett and Scarlett paused at the gate to Aunt Eulalie's home. Rhett opened the latch with his free hand; the other was entwined with Scarlett's. He gently tugged on her arm to usher her through the gated fence but she lingered, swinging her arm linked to his, and dragged her feet, not wanting this day to end.

"Come here," he whispered softly, leading her to a joggling bench that sat in the garden. Joggling benches were unique to Charleston and were used for courting purposes, provided the couple was adequately chaperoned, of course. Alone in the dark, moonlit night, Rhett took her by the shoulders and pushed her into place at one end of the long, bouncy bench; he sat down a considerable length away.

"Why so far? Have I scared you off?" Scarlett asked demurely, bouncing a little on the bench, which only made the two of them slide a little closer together.

"Yes, as a matter of fact you have. I don't think I can take much more of this. I need a moment. I want to be clear headed right now."

"Really…why?" Scarlett's voice was husky as she slid further down the bench to its center.

"Ahem…I don't know about you, but I fear we may not be alone. Prying eyes annoy me," he said conspiratorially, looking around for signs of life in the yard or in the home, but all they heard was the lonely sound of a lone cricket calling out to its mate. "Speaking of such matters," he continued, "is the admirable Miss Eulalie or Miss Pauline home? They never have thought very highly of me."

"Aunt Pauline usually comes over at night," answered Scarlett, bouncing again and sliding down the bench until she and Rhett were an arm's length apart. "But both Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie have a committee meeting tonight, so they won't be back for awhile."

"What luck," he said softly, "to have you alone. The entire day has been pure torture for me, as I'm sure you are well aware…"

Something in his voice made her heart beat pleasantly faster and she felt her face flush. After their confrontation followed by Rhett's declaration at the river, the day had been a dream come to life. True, he didn't exactly say he loved her, nor did he propose, but she shook off her nagging conscience that was threatening to dampen her deliriously happy mood.

Now, hearing Rhett's voice whisper so seductively made the hair on her bare arms stand on end. She had heard that note in men's voices often enough to know that it presaged a declaration of love. Oh, what fun! If he would just say he loved her! She laughed nervously in pleasant anticipation.

"Wanting you as I do, I've been hard pressed, so to speak, to keep myself from ravishing you. I hope you have appreciated my gentlemanly conduct. Believe me, I do not come by it naturally. Occasionally my gentlemanly honor cracks and this is one of those moments. Come here," he said, pulling her into his arms as they met in the center of the dipping bench. "I want to say, goodbye. You realize that I set sail tomorrow at dawn and I'll be gone for some time…"

"Don't giggle," he said, and taking her hand, he turned it over and pressed his lips into the palm. Something vital, electric, leaped from him to her at the touch of his warm mouth, something that caressed her whole body thrillingly. His lips traveled to her wrist and she knew he must feel the leap of her pulse as her heart. She was in love with him and desperately wanted to tell him so, but her upbringing told her that she had to wait…and be patient until he spoke first.

He laughed softly, smiling in enjoyment at her nervousness.

"Scarlett, you do like me, don't you?"

That was more like what she was expecting.

"Well, sometimes," she answered cautiously. "Though I still haven't forgiven you for your boorish behavior at the river."

He laughed again and held the palm of her hand against his hard cheek. He kissed her palm again, and again the skin on the back of her neck crawled excitingly.

"But you do like me. Could you ever love me, Scarlett?"

He went and turned the tables on her again and she stood mute, unable to think fast enough to come up with a witty response, one that would force his hand first without revealing all of her cards.

"I do like you tremendously—" he continued as if he hadn't noted her lack of a response, "for the elasticity of your conscience, for the selfishness which you seldom trouble to hide, and for the shrewd practicality."

What? Nothing about her charming personality, dimples, hair or eyes! She began to splutter wordlessly.

"Don't interrupt," he begged, squeezing her hand. "I like you because I have those same qualities in me and like begets liking. That said, I'm hoping there is room in your heart for me. Scarlett, do stop wriggling! I am making you a declaration. As I said, I have wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you at Tara. I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman and I fully intend to have you, all of you."

She was breathless with surprise at his last words. He did love her and want to marry her and he was just so contrary he didn't want to come out frankly and put it into words, for fear she'd laugh. It was all so obvious now. He wanted her to promise to marry him before he left on his next blockading trip.

Then his arms went around her waist and shoulders and he pulled her to her feet. She felt the hard muscles of his thighs against her body and the buttons of his coat pressing into her breast. A warm tide of feeling, bewildering, frightening, swept over her, carrying out of her mind the time and place and circumstances. She felt as limp as a rag doll, warm, weak and helpless, and his supporting arms were so pleasant.

He was kissing her now and his mustache tickled her mouth, kissing her with slow, hot lips that were so leisurely as though he had the whole night before him. Ashley had never kissed her like this. Never had the kisses of the Tarleton and Calvert boys made her go hot and cold and shaky like his were doing. He bent her body backward and his lips traveled down her throat to where the cameo fastened her basque.

"Sweet," he whispered. "Sweet."

Scarlett hands climbed up his shoulders and grasped his head. His hair was surprisingly soft and silky under her fingertips and unable to stop herself, she ran her fingers through it with abandon and then pulled his head tightly to her breast, exhilarated by the feelings he was arousing in her. Her assertiveness seemed to fuel his passion and his mouth attacked hers with vigor. Heedless of time and space, they were so immersed in their newfound passion that neither heard the click of the gate or the horrified gasp that followed it.

Startled and breathless, Scarlett snapped to attention and turned, somewhat disoriented, toward the sound. Her swollen lips were still pursed in a rapturous smile but when her eyes fell upon the shocked faces of Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie her face was wiped clean of all except fear. Facing a brigade of Yankees standing at the gate would not have been nearly as frightening.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Taken to Task

"Shame on you, Scarlett O'Hara!" shouted Eulalie once they were in the house and the door closed behind them.

"How could you? How could you bring shame on yourself, your mother and us in this manner?" Aunt Pauline was equally enraged as she pulled off her gloves with clumsy fingers that shook with anger.

"—and with such a scoundrel as Rhett Butler. The man has brought shame upon his entire family. Oh, poor Eleanor Butler! Her son has humiliated the woman. He's done nothing, absolutely nothing but harm his family and their reputations!" exclaimed Eulalie.

Scarlett stood unmoving, staring blankly at her aunts, who were now engaged in a loud tirade with each other, as if trying to best the other with their observations and examples of Scarlett's impropriety.

"That's because the man has so little regard for anyone's reputation let alone his own. Why he was kicked out of West Point, did you know that?" Pauline asked Scarlett.

"Then, he ruined poor Emily Lawrence. That's something I wager you didn't know!" Eulalie was now peppering Scarlett with questions. "Poor Emily. She was a lovely girl from a lovely family. Her big mistake was going out buggy riding with that man without a chaperone. The day wore on and she never returned—"

"She didn't come home until well after dark!" Pauline finished for her sister. "He claimed the wheel on the buggy broke but no one believed it. That's the problem with a man like Rhett Butler. He's not to be trusted."

"Yes, he's not to be trusted." As of on cue, both Pauline and Eulalie turned once again to face Scarlett directly.

"In any case, Emily's brother, Nathanial, called him out," continued Eulalie, still her voice octaves above her normal range. "The duel was set for the next morning. It was barely past dawn when a shot rang out and minutes later, word spread. Rhett Butler had shot Nathanial in cold blood. Robert Butler struck his son's name from the family bible and Rhett left town. We thought we were done with him."

"The man should have allowed Nat to shoot him dead and put an end to the blight that has plagued the Butler family since he was born!" smirked Pauline.

"Oh, Scarlett, how could you? To allow this man to soil your reputation! He can be charming, to be sure. He can be charming one minute and con you out of a fortune the next. Were you foolish enough to think he would marry you? Now, that's a laugh!" Eulalie cried with a near hysterical note in her voice. She walked up to Scarlett and jerked her chin up so that the two women were looking at one another eye to eye and Eulalie studied Scarlett's green depths for a moment. "I can see that you did. What a stupid little fool! The man is not a marrying man. He won't marry you. He won't marry anyone. He doesn't care about anyone but himself!" Eulalie concluded.

Eulalie walked to the window and looked out as if studying something in the dark blackness she saw there. Finally in a soft voice she added: "We will telegram your mother in the morning. I pity her. As much as it pains me, we have to tell her."

"Oh, dear…what will she think of us as chaperones?" whimpered Pauline.

***

Back in her room, Scarlett angrily threw her clothing haphazardly into the trunk careless of the fine garments as she was wrinkling and the ruffles she was tearing in her haste. Tears blinded her eyes, overflowing and streaming down her face. Heedless, she absently wiped her sleeve across her running nose. Scarlett felt herself go cold with fear and humiliation. Aunt Eulalie was a fool, a silly, a simpleton about men, but she had a feminine instinct about other women that Scarlett had underestimated. The mortification and hurt pride that she had suffered with Rhett Butler were pinpricks to this. Men could be trusted to keep their mouths shut, but with Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline giving tongue like hounds in the field, word would travel to Tara by suppertime tomorrow evening. And Gerald had said only two months ago that he wouldn't be having the County laughing at his daughter. And how they would all laugh now! Clammy perspiration, starting under her armpits, began to creep down her ribs.

Then, she heard her aunts' muffled voices float up to her room. She quietly eased open the door, tiptoed into the hall and leaned over the banister so that she could make out what they were saying to one another.

"I'm just so distressed. Sister dear, do you think we were too hard on her?"

"Bah, not at all. She needs to go home where Ellen can keep a watchful eye on her. You know as well as I do that all Scarlett O'Hara has ever done has been to stir up trouble and try to get other girls' beaux—"

"She's a fast piece of baggage, that she is."

"I must get out of here!" thought Scarlett. "I must get out of here!"

Whenever she had problems in the past, she drew solace and comfort from the thought of Tara. If she could only be transferred by magic to Tara and to safety. If she could only be with Ellen, just to see her, to hold onto her skirt, to cry and pour out the whole story in her lap. But she couldn't go home to Tara! Her mother would be furious, furious and disappointed that first Scarlett had lied about her whereabouts and then she had acted like a trollop, throwing herself at the very man her mother warned her to stay from away from. Oh, if she had to listen to another word from her aunts, she'd rush downstairs and tell them both off and spit on the old biddies to show them just what she thought of them. But she'd already acted common enough today, enough like white trash—that was where all her trouble lay.

She pressed her hands hard against her skirts, so they would not rustle and backed out of the hall as stealthily as an animal. Where could she go, she wondered as she sped down the hall, past the closed doors and still rooms, where? The only answer was to go home.

But—she couldn't go home! She had to run away and find a new life for herself for how could she bear the combination of humiliation and heartbreak. To run away would only give them more ammunition.

She pounded her clenched fist against the heavy door of her room as she locked it behind her, and she wished that she were Samson, so that she could pull down all of Charleston and destroy every person in it. She'd make them sorry. She'd show them. She didn't quite see how she'd show them, but she'd do it all the same. She'd hurt them worse than they hurt her.

But what could she do? Where would she go? Then, just like her room at Tara would fill with light when the sun rose every morning, her eyes brightened at the idea that rose to her mind: Rhett. "I'll find Rhett. He'll know what to do. He won't let me go home in disgrace, I just know it!"

For a brief instant she wondered why Rhett hadn't suggested marriage the moment that her aunts happened upon them in the front yard, startling them from their embrace. The thought nagged at her and made her heart sink low into her stomach and for a moment, a sickening feeling overtook her and her hands turned icy cold. But if truth were told, she didn't even look at him when her aunts approached the gate. So petrified was she of them and their reaction that she didn't remember anything that transpired in the next few moments. In fact, she didn't remember how she even got into the house. So she really could not recall if Rhett had said or done anything to salvage her reputation. She thought hard, hoping to find some shred of evidence that he had taken the blame, excusing himself because he was so smitten with her that he had taken leave of his senses. And yes, of course, he would do the right thing and marry her!

But try as she might, Scarlett could not recall anything of the sort. When she concentrated really hard, she could remember something…something he said about sailing at dawn. Did he ask her to meet him? She remembered his odd behavior all day. Backing away from her at the oddest moments. That strange light in his eyes that she couldn't quite understand. The way he seemed to be riding his emotions with a curb bit. Then, he suddenly let loose when that were at the river and it happened again with utter abandon when they arrived at Eulalie's house. The juxtaposition of his cool restraint followed by kisses that were so passionate and eyes that silently told her of his desire were distinctly at odds.

"Of course! He acted that way because he doesn't know I love him," thought Scarlett. "But I'll tell him and then he can't leave on his trip without marrying me first! That will solve everything! Mother can't be upset if we're married and no one will think the worse of me once we're married!"

"That's it!" Scarlett's mood changed instantly from devastated to elated as she swept about the room gathering her things. "We'll get married! He'll prove everyone wrong. He loves me! I just know he does," Scarlett cried to herself with renewed strength as she packed her bags, for now she wasn't packing to run away. She was packing her bags to elope. At the thought, a sly smile spread across her face. "Why at this time tomorrow night, I could be Mrs. Rhett Butler!" With that, she fell onto the bed in a fit of giggles, then realized for her plan to work her aunts must not hear her, so she brought a pillow to her face until she regained control over her emotions. She rose from the bed and paced the room, nibbling lightly on the knuckle of her index finger as she thought hard to formulate a plan.

First and foremost, she looked at the enormous trunk she was packing and realized it wouldn't do if she were going to elope. She remembered seeing a carpetbag in the attic and decided she had to retrieve it. She pulled her door open a crack and seeing light still coming from downstairs, she decided to make her move. The sound of Eulalie and Pauline's voices floated up to her. They were quieter now but no less righteous and she could hear her name along with mentions of Rhett and finally, Ellen. Hearing her mother's name brought renewed fear into her heart and she actually felt it skip a beat as she forced her feet to move stealthy up the attic steps. She fumbled in the dark attic. The only light came courtesy of the full moon that illuminated the old floorboards and cast dark, menacing shadows on the walls. Hurry! Hurry! She told herself, trying to shake off her fear of the creepy shadows and the idea that she may be caught at any second.

She found the carpetbag she sought and crept back to her room. She snapped the closure open and dug her hands into the musty bag to find something in its depths. She pulled out a lacy shawl and as it fell open, a piece of paper floated from its folds, hit the hardwood floor and skipped under the bed. Scarlett got to her hands and knees to retrieve the paper, afraid to leave any evidence behind that would give rise to suspicions. Her fingers reached the paper and she stood up, anxious to get her bag packed and be on her way. She was just about to toss the paper back into the bag when the handwriting caught her eye. It was familiar but she couldn't place it. Then it hit her! It was another page of the love letter she had found in the attic trunk.

…_My love, I refuse to be forced into an arranged, loveless marriage, not when I know you still live and breathe and can sing and dance and hold me in your arms. How could I bear being married to someone whom I do not love? I ask you, how could I bear it?_

_I could not, no. No, matter what Father says, I cannot abide by his rules. I know my behavior is sure to bring shame to my family but how can I abide by what society says is proper and deny my heart? How can I honor my mother and my father and deny the love I feel for you that is true, for nothing I have ever felt for anyone has ever felt more pure than does my love for you?_

_The answer to these questions is a simple one: I cannot. I cannot deny my love for you and I will not trade my lifelong happiness to please anyone, least of all my parents._

_I, my love, am your "yellow rose" and will see you soon._

_Love, E-_

A combination of aged paper and smudged ink made the full name unreadable but Scarlett assumed it had to be Eulalie who wrote this but couldn't believe it. The woman who was raging downstairs about her fast behavior was writing torrid letters to her lover against the wishes of her parents. Grandfather Robillard must have surely despised this young man, so much so that he and her grandmother preferred to force Eulalie into an arranged marriage. Scarlett's jaw dropped at that thought and she shuddered to think that Eulalie had ever been young enough to feel real true love was. Surely, she was writing about her husband or…the thought dawned upon her…was she writing about someone else. Was Eulalie's husband the pawn in her father's arranged marriage? Either way, Eulalie was a hypocrite. "How dare she criticize me when she was willing to do anything—anything to be with the one man that she truly loved?" thought Scarlett.

If a fire had been lit in Scarlett earlier, the letter only served to ignite it into a blazing conflagration that gave her strength and courage in her earlier decision to find Rhett and marry him. Like this unnamed man, Rhett was her one true love. How could she bear being separated from him? The answer was simple: She could not. And Scarlett, like Eulalie, refused to trade her lifelong happiness to please anyone, least of all her parents.

"How could I return to Tara?" thought Scarlett. "How could I when 'I know you still live and breathe and can sing and dance and hold me in your arms,'" she quoted, retrieving the other pages of the letter and grazing them lightly with her lips before placing them lovingly into the bottom of the carpetbag.

* * *

Scarlett arrived at the docks and had wandered around for quite some time before she found Rhett's ship, which he had shown her yesterday. Well, she found the ship, but didn't find him and when she finally did, she found it hard to catch his attention. There was so much commotion on the docks just before a sailing and men where mulling about everywhere, some hustling while others dallied about; some shouting orders and others hauling supplies on board. It was just before dawn when Rhett next saw her and there was a tenseness about her, a glow in her eyes that he had never seen before, and even in the dim light he could see the rosy flush on her cheeks. He grabbed a rope and swung himself masterfully from the ship onto the dock and took her hand. The physicality of his movement struck Scarlett like a blow and took her breath away.

"Scarlett! What are you doing here? Are you all right? What is it?" he said urgently.

At the touch of his hand on hers, she began to tremble. It was going to happen now, just as she had dreamed it. A thousand incoherent thoughts shot through her mind, and she could not catch a single one to mold into a word. She could only shake and look up into his face. Why didn't he speak?

"What is it?" he repeated. "A secret to tell me? How bad was it at home with Eulalie and Pauline?"

Suddenly she found her tongue and just as suddenly all the years of Ellen's teachings fell away and the words of Eulalie's letter and the forthright Irish blood of Gerald spoke from his daughter's lips.

"Yes—a secret. I love you. I know you must care about me because—" She stopped. Never before had she seen such a blank expression on anyone's face. "Rhett, do you care—you do, don't you?"

"Yes," he said dully. "I care. How could I not? We're alike. Both selfish rascals—"

"Oh, don't tease me now!" she interrupted. She plucked at his sleeve, speechless. This was not going as she envisioned this morning. Where was the leaping light of love that she dreamed of seeing in his black eyes? "Don't you want to—to marry me?"

He dropped her hand and laughed so loudly that several men on his ship turned to look at what their captain was up to. He regained his composure and then he replied, "Good Lord, no! My dear, I am not a marrying man."

He was saying things—things that made no sense. Her mind was quite blank, quite empty of all the thoughts that had surged through it only a moment before, and his words

made no more impression than rain on glass. They fell on unhearing ears, words that were swift and cold and matter of fact, spoken like a stranger simply stating a fact.

She was numb but life and feeling and comprehension were beginning to flow back into her.

"But you just said you cared for me."

"Scarlett, don't you see. Our timing is off. I'm about to set sail in less than an hour. I'll be gone for a month or more."

"Take me with you, please, Rhett! We would be so good together," she begged.

"Do you hear me? I do care because we're so much alike and like begets liking, but not now, not like this…" he shrugged uneasily, running his hand through his hair and over his rough, unshaven cheek. Was he trying to come up with a solution to their problem, her problem, or was he searching for a kind way to get rid of her. She surmised it was the latter.

"So after everything—after yesterday, you're just going to leave me," she shrieked. "Leave me alone in a city that is being bombarded night and day. Leave me alone because I can't go home. That's right! I can't go home, all because of you!" her voice trembled as it rose, drawing even more attention to the pair. "You're going to leave me here in Charleston! It will probably be invaded tomorrow and it's quite ungallant of you not to think that I might get hurt," she added tartly with a petulant pout on her face.

His eyes flickered with amusement. "I'd back you against the Yankees any day."

"I'm not sure that that's a compliment," she said uncertainly.

"It isn't," he answered. "What you must remember, my dear girl, is this: the Yankees aren't fiends. They haven't horns and hoofs, as you seem to think. They are pretty much like Southerners—except with worse manners, of course, and terrible accents."

"Why, the Yankees would—"

"Rape you? I think not. Though, of course, they'd want to."

"Oh, my God!" Scarlett's voice screamed silently. "What are we talking about? He's as nonchalant as if he was discussing the weather while my reputation is in shreds!"

"If you are going to talk vilely I shall…I shall," she cried, grateful that the shadows hid her crimson face. But she had nothing to threaten him with, absolutely nothing and the realization of what she had done overcame her with all of its monumental consequences.

Even amid her inner turmoil, she could hear him chuckling softly. Sometimes he was odious.

"Scarlett! Look at me!" he said, firmly grabbing hold of her shoulders and shaking her ever so slightly. "Yes, I care. God, I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman, but it seems like I have to wait for you. You keep yourself safe and sound and when I return in a month or so—"

"We'll get married?" Scarlett finished for him, thinking all was not lost after all. If she were engaged, she was sure she could convince Ellen that Rhett was honorable.

"No, I'm complimenting your intelligence by asking you to be my mistress without having first seduced you."

Mistress!

Her mind shouted the word, shouted that she had been vilely insulted. But in that first startled moment she did not feel insulted. She only felt a furious surge of indignation that he should think her such a fool when she was expecting an engagement. He must think her a fool if he offered her a proposition like that, instead of the proposal of matrimony she had been expecting. Rage, punctured vanity and disappointment threw her mind into a turmoil and, before she even thought of the high moral grounds on which she should upbraid him, she blurted out the first words which came to her lips—

"Mistress! What would I get out of that except a passel of brats?"

And then her jaw dropped in horror as she realized what she had said. He laughed until he choked, peering at her in the shadows as she sat, stricken dumb, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth.

"That's why I like you! You are the only frank woman I know, the only woman who looks on the practical side of matters without beclouding the issue with mouthings about sin and morality."

How could she have said such a thing! How could she, Ellen's daughter, with her upbringing, have sat there and listened to such debasing words and then made such a shameless reply? She should have screamed. She should have fainted. She should have turned coldly away in silence and swept from the dock.

"They were right! Everyone was right! You…you aren't a gentleman!" she screamed.

"Ah, my dear, how inadequate."

"You are nothing but a cowardly, nasty, lowdown, filthy…" Scarlett's mind raced desperately, searching for the words to hurt him as badly as her had hurt her. Her earlier humiliation with Eulalie and Pauline was all but forgotten when stacked up against this latest catastrophe, which definitely trumped every other embarrassing moment in her life thus far. Broken and belittled, Scarlett had to admit that they were right! Eulalie and Pauline were right. Rhett had used her and humiliated her for his own purposes. He was not a marrying man she thought bitterly with regret as her heart writhed in agony.

"And to think you told me of your undying love for me—" A swift slap to his face cut off any further words from him. Instinctively, his hand rose to his face and he rubbed his cheek ruefully.

"I hate you Rhett Butler and I'll hate you until the day I die!" Her eyes, gleeful and full of expectation just a few moments earlier, were now cold and unfeeling as they looked upon him one last time. At that moment, she did hate him, more than she ever thought possible. She turned swiftly and raising her head high, strode purposefully away from the docks.

Rhett stood alone watching Scarlett take off with a proud lift of her chin. He absentmindedly rubbed his cheek again which still smarted from her stinging slap and a faint gleam of admiration sparked in the depth of his eyes.

"Hey, Captain!" called a man on board the ship. "We need you below decks."

Rhett didn't turn to look. He simply held up his hand to silence the man, telling him without words, he'd be there in his own due time. Instead of hastening below decks, Rhett stood on the dock watching Scarlett. Had she turned around, she would have gotten great satisfaction in seeing Rhett in his own emotional turmoil, which he did not trouble to disguise. He appeared anxious, tense and frustrated. Had she seen him, Scarlett, with her newfound enlightenment, would have explained it by saying his anxiety was due to his upcoming voyage. But Karl, who stood on deck awaiting Rhett's return, knew better.

Rhett watched Scarlett until her diminutive figure became even smaller and turned to talk to a pickaninny. She reached into her reticule, and Rhett assumed, gave the child a few coins—perhaps to take her to the station. He was confident that she would get safely to Tara and explain things to her mother and then…and then…What?

The child ran off and Scarlett turned the corner and disappeared from sight.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Setting Sail

Rhett strode impatiently up and down the deck of his ship, a massive 902-ton side-wheel steamer that had been built in the Liverpool shipyards ten years earlier. In its prior life, it had been used as a merchant ship but when war broke out, Rhett purchased the ship and adapted it for high-speed dashes through the Union blockade. It had a large mast in the forward quarter of its length. Behind that, abeam to port was a massive paddlewheel; behind that, in the center of the ship, were two large smoke stacks. Finally, in the aft quarter was another large mast. Crewmembers were hustling about as the ship was making its departure. Ropes tethering it to the dock were tossed to waiting hands on deck and a handful of women. Some were old, others young; some were mothers to those whose who labored on deck, others were sweethearts and all waved to loved ones with eyes filled with tears of goodbye.

"Captain, everything is in order, sir," shouted a redheaded man.

Rhett nodded and gripped the iron railing on the starboard, his lips set in a grim line as the steamer pulled away from the dock.

"Good to be setting sail again, wouldn't you say?" asked another man who sidled up to Rhett at the railing. He was a tall man, very nearly a blonde version of Rhett, with skin bronzed from the sun and twinkling blue eyes.

"Umm…" was Rhett's only reply.

"Aw, my friend, pardon if I say, so, but you look like hell. A little too much hair of the dog last night, yes?" he said with a slight German accent, elbowing Rhett and giving him a sly wink. "Who was that lady I saw you with just moments ago, eh? Was she the one you told me about? She certainly seemed to get under your skin. Now, I know how smooth you are with the ladies, but this one, well, Rhett, to be honest, she seemed to get the best of you. From my vantage point, she was doing all the talking and well, if I do say so, it wasn't exactly sweet talking if you get my meaning, eh?"

Rhett's only indication that he heard his friend was a slight twitch at the corner of his mustache. Otherwise, he remained stoic and unblinking as he watched the horizon drift away.

"As for me," the man continued, "I abstained from any libations and instead, took my fill of a very lovely fräulein. Ah, yes, she quenched my thirst all right. Why she could do things with her ton—"

"Karl, I'd appreciate it if you spared me the details of your exploits," returned Rhett in a smooth voice that was stern yet as soft as a whisper.

"Well, I'll be damned," retorted Karl with a shrug of his shoulders, continuing to mutter under his breath as he took his leave. "I have to listen to your stories all the time, but no, when I have a tale to tell…"

Rhett's eyes didn't follow his shipmate; they never left the dock, even as Charleston's skyline, which was one of the world's identifiable ports, became smaller. Saint Michael's steeple rose above the other buildings and although they were well into the harbor by now, the bells tolling the hours could be heard in the early morning stillness …one…two…three…

With each bell, a memory flashed in his mind. Scarlett at the French Market. Scarlett with powdered sugar on her nose. Scarlett in her Aunt Eulalie's front yard…her body pliant and willing in his arms.

Four…Scarlett's red lips that tasted so sweet and having only sipped of them, he yearned to drink more fully.

Five…Her fiery green eyes. Eyes so green they reminded him of the color of absinthe and he wondered forlornly like many men before him if he would forever be addicted to his own Green Fairy.

Rhett continued to stand at the rail even after Charleston had long since disappeared from the horizon. Karl, sensing his mood, kept his distance and as his second, he took charge of the ship, navigating it carefully out of the harbor and past the Yankee gunboats. There was some shuffling about on board as orders were shouted and followed but through it all, Rhett remained unmoved. Finally, as the ship rose and fell as it met each wave in the open sea head on, he turned resolutely and made his way below deck. There he remained for hours. What he did, Karl, nor any of the crewmembers ever knew. They only knew that it was highly unusual for Rhett Butler, who took such an active role in everything that had to do with his ship, to take leave of the deck during the first hours of a new voyage. These were the critical hours. This was the time he established the tone and the rhythm of the workings aboard ship, especially among the newly hired hands. This was when the hierarchy of command was reinforced and every new hand learned quickly that while Rhett was a stern taskmaster, who was all business, he commanded with a disciplined hand, yet a wise one. Never would he place a higher value on the profit inherent in his cargo over safety. Never would he risk a man's life for a dollar. He paid his men handsomely, was loyal to a fault and expected the same in return. Anyone attempting to finagle his own deal, steal or cheat him of his profits would find that Rhett's cool demeanor could turn deadly on the flip of a coin.

Short staccato knocks on Rhett's cabin door emitted a terse, "Come in" from Rhett.

"What are you doing, mate? You've been hiding out in your cabin all morning," said Karl as he strode casually into the well-appointed room that doubled as an office and bedroom.

"Had some paperwork to do," was Rhett's reply.

"Really? I've never known you to put paperwork ahead of greeting your crew once we've set sail. What's is troubling you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on, Rhett. We've known each other since we were wet behind the ears. You don't really think I'd believe that, do you?" Karl chuckled and put a friendly arm around Rhett's shoulders.

"I don't give a damn what you choose to believe," Rhett answered smoothly, turning swiftly back to his desk where he absently shuffled through a handful of papers.

"Well, I apologize for stepping out of line—_Captain_." Karl paused momentarily, staring at Rhett. When he received no response, he swung open the door to leave.

"Karl—"

"Yes." Karl turned back to see Rhett comb his fingers through his hair, a gesture Karl knew signaled a problem, mounting frustration or both.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right. I am out of sorts. I…I…I didn't get much sleep last night," Rhett explained with a weak smile.

"Aha, ja, that explains it then," returned Karl all too quickly. He turned to leave and then, as if thinking better of the idea added: "Well, then are you coming down to the mess to welcome the new crew members?"

"Yes, I suppose I should." Rhett put down his papers and stared out at his porthole. "I'll be down in a moment."

"Ja, I'll see you there then."

Several minutes later, Rhett descended the narrow, steep wooden steps that went below deck to what was currently serving as the crew mess hall. On the return voyage, the mess would be regulated to a storage area for cargo and the men would be left having to balance their plates of food on their knees. In the meantime, they enjoyed eating in relative luxury. The crew of five sat assembled around a table that hung suspended on ropes tethered to the ceiling. It required some skill to eat at a table that often swung at the most inopportune times but the men, accustomed to life at sea, took it all in stride, as if a sixth sense told them the precise moment they could sip their steaming hot coffee without scalding their chest hairs.

Three of the men had been with Rhett since his first voyage. While in Charleston, he hired two additional men when two of his best decided to join the army. Upon Rhett's entrance, the men, who just seconds earlier were engaged in ruckus conversation, suddenly quieted. His eyes quickly scanned the table. Karl sat at the head of the table. On his right was a red-haired man, Edward; on his left, sat James. All three men had been with Rhett since the early days of the war. Glancing at each, Rhett nodded in turn and noticed on either side of Edward and James and at the end of foot of the table sat three of the newly hired hands.

What? Three hands, Rhett questioned his gaze quickly scanning the table. He only remembered hiring two. Well, maybe Karl retained a third, he reasoned. Karl was always saying they needed another hand. "Strong of backbone and weak of mind" was how Karl described the ideal candidate for the job. But somehow, this young boy at the foot of the table, whose head was bent so low that the brim of his hat nearly dragged through his porridge, didn't look big enough to tote a basket, let alone a bale of cotton or some of the heavier cargo they routinely loaded and off-loaded from the ship.

"Adam, how are you faring?" Rhett asked the first new hand.

"Wonderful, sir. It is good to be at sea again," said the mate, who though only 19 years of age had already crossed the Atlantic a dozen times.

"And, how about you?" Rhett asked, turning his gaze upon Johnny, a young boy who looked young enough to still be wearing short pants had it not been for his height—all six-feet and three inches of it.

"Oh, Captain, I must thank you again for the honor of having me here. It is indeed a privilege to be setting sail with the likes of Captain Butler," Johnny said, beaming with pride and admiration for the man who stood before him.

"I'm glad you're here. Both of you," Rhett answered. Then, turning his attention to the third new hire, he inquired: "And you, mate. I don't believe we have met—"

"Oh, surely you remember hiring _me_," returned the new hire with his head down. He spoke in a voice that while gruff, belied the fact that he was nothing more than a child whose voice had still not yet gone through the change.

"I think you'll have to refresh my memory," said Rhett, turning for to Karl for clarification.

"I'm sure you remember," continued the boy raising his head and giving Rhett a defiant stare with his piercing green eyes. "We met outside of Atlanta. In Jonesboro at a family barbeque to be exact."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Thank you everyone for your patience. I've been terrible about working on this chapter and I have no excuse except that I've rather enjoyed reading GWTW related materials lately and just came back from a trip to Atlanta and will be heading to Charleston in November. The passion is still there…the time just isn't. In any case, I have to thank DreamGWTW for her prod this morning to get this chapter up. It was nearly done and all I really had to do is polish it up, so this one—S—is for you.**_

Chapter 13 – Collision at Sea

The green eyes staring at Rhett from beneath the wide brim of the ragged hat were unmistakable. He'd seen them in his dreams over the past year and just a few hours earlier they had blazed with passion as she begged him to take her with him. Now, they ignited a fire in his belly that threatened to turn his stomach inside out as she introduced herself in the ship's mess.

The next few moments were a blur—for both of them.

Scarlett, who had carefully plotted how she would stowaway on Rhett's ship had also strategically planned the exact moment when she would reveal her presence; soon enough in the voyage to make him squirm yet far enough out to sea that he couldn't possibly return her to Charleston. Yes, she had the upper hand over Rhett Butler and her confidence in the plan she had concocted grew steadily with each passing hour she spent on the boat undetected. By the time her green eyes met Rhett's dark ones over supper, she was virtually intoxicated with the adrenalin racing through her veins. Then, just like a drunkard who sobers with deluge of icy water, the spark of anger she saw in Rhett's black eyes quickly doused her bravado and set her heart pounding.

As for Rhett, his exit from the dining mess was swift if not altogether sure. When the bell of recognition rang in his head, he felt nothing but blind fury. Momentarily unaware of the time and place, his only thought was to get her away from the men—and fast! He later recalled seizing her arm and steering her up the rickety stairs, down the ship to his private quarters. He had opened the door and kicked it wide with his foot and in doing so, unceremoniously shoved her over the threshold.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.

Scarlett missed a step and stumbled forward, catching herself to avoid hitting the floor. Her unsteadiness was due partly to his unabashed shove and partly to the uneven pitch of the boat. Regaining her footing, she raised her chin high and averted her eyes before replying with a controlled, overly cultured voice that struck Rhett as contrived. "I've always wanted to travel. I thought now would be a good time to do it. Besides, I've always wanted to see England," she said airily as she walked over to his porthole.

"Well, then, you're on the wrong ship. We're not going to England," he replied flatly.

"Oh?" She turned to face him, her surprise evident in her face despite her best attempt at feigning disinterest.

"You've boarded a ship bound for Nassau and then Havana."

"Well, then, I've always wanted to see those cities, too," she amended. "I hear they are lovely this time of year." Her voice was at distinct odds with her attire and despite his anger at her, Rhett had to muster all of his wits to smother a grin at her impudence.

"You little minx, don't you know this is dangerous? You could get killed or worse, get one of my men killed with your presence!"

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Oh, you can, can you?"

"Yes, I can," she stated defiantly. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she added in an attempt to brush past him.

"No, I will not excuse you," he growled, grabbing her arm and bringing her squarely in front of him. "You're a crewmember. I'm the captain of this vessel. You'll leave when I say you can leave. And right now, I have a few things I wish to discuss." He dropped his large frame into a massive mahogany chair and casually leaned back until it rested on its two rear legs. "Sit," he ordered as he extended his long legs in front of him and with the toe of his right boot, hooked an adjacent chair and dragged it out from a nearby table. He indicated with a casual wave of his hand that she should sit. "For starters, how are your accommodations? Do you think you'll be nice and…" he paused, searching for the right word, "…cozy?"

Scarlett was taken aback by his attitude. While she didn't expect chivalry from him, she did expect him to act like a gentleman, so for him to uncharacteristically sit before taking the time to politely pull out a chair and wait until she was seated told her that she was facing a side of Rhett Butler that she hadn't yet seen.

"They are fine," she answered uneasily as she took a seat in the proffered chair. "Cramped, yes. I thought a man of your means with a ship of this size would have nicer accommodations for his crew, but I won't quibble."

"Thank you for the crumbs from you table, my dear."

"If you want to pack your entire crew into a dwarf-size room that's your business," she continued as if she had not heard him and dusted an invisible piece of lint from her ragged, dirty trousers.

"Yes, it is my business and the reason is a practical one: We've taken out many of the staterooms to make room for more cargo, after all, that is what we're doing here—running a business, a very profitable one, my dear. I'll not have you getting in my way, do you understand me? If anything during this voyage is delayed or obstructed in any way due to having a woman on board, you will be sorry."

"You don't frighten me, Rhett Butler, or scare me with your threats. No one will ever know I'm here."

"I know you're here and that's enough."

"And does that bother you?" she asked slyly.

Rhett leaned forward in his chair until he was so close to Scarlett that the brim of her hat brushed against his forehead. "Not in the least," he articulated slowly, emphasizing each word. He held her gaze for what seemed like several moments; neither of them willing to break the glance as if doing so would be the equivalent of flinching. A clanging pot hitting the floor in the mess was the sound that startled Scarlett enough to direct her eyes toward the door. Realizing the sound came from below, she reluctantly turned back to Rhett.

"A little jumpy today, aren't we? Well, get over it," he said, leaning back in his chair once more. "Now, there are some rules I want you to remember."

"Don't begin to think that you can tell me—"

"As I said earlier," Rhett interrupted smoothly, "I am the captain here and as said captain, I have rules, which I expect to be followed. Rule number one, don't fraternize with the crew."

"Why not? I'm here to make friends," she returned as if she were discussing the seating arrangement at the Twelve Oaks barbecue.

"It is unlikely you'll make any friends here. From a distance, you can pass for a boy. Close-up is another thing entirely," he said while his eyes examined every facet of her face.

Scarlett, thinking she could use this moment to her advantage, dimpled under his gaze. "But I…I have passed for a boy before and I…I don't think…" Scarlett floundered around for words with practiced modesty as she kept her eyes downward. "I…I mean…not one is about to notice me. I'm…quite boyish…and rather ordinary, don't you think?" She looked up at him looking at him as his opinion on the matter was of utmost importance.

Rhett sat still for some time and his eyes moved imperceptibly. They roamed over her face, traveled down her neck to her bosom, which was concealed under the baggy shirt. He could imagine what lay hidden there. He had felt her breasts pressed against him when he had held her tightly to his chest on the jostling bench in her aunt's front yard. Her pants, cinched at the waist showed just how tiny a waist she had, which was distinctly at odds with the oversized nature of both her shirt and pants. Anyone with any sense would know that her figure was so slight, too slight to pass for anyone but the scrawniest young lad and was certainly not the type of boy that Rhett would ordinary hire.

As Rhett's eyes roamed further, he noted that the pants, while loose, were not so loose that he couldn't make out the curve of her bottom as she sat in the chair and imagine just how slim her legs were and felt the hairs rise on his neck at the thought of her milky white thighs that met at the apex of her being. Scarlett shivered slightly under his gaze as he undressed her with his eyes and a slight smile came to her lips. "He's just as taken with me as he has always been," she thought, but now, instead of the idea bringing her joy, it incited a wicked sense of retribution. She dimpled at the thought and imagined how much fun it would be to tease and torment Rhett for the duration of the voyage.

Finally, Rhett spoke and when he did, his voice was thick. "Just take my word for it, keep your distance."

"Are you finished?"

"No, there's one other thing."

"What?"

"Rule number two, don't you dare let anyone know that you are not the boy that you pretend to be."

"And just why is that?"

"Scarlett, you little fool! You can't even begin to realize what a crew of men can be like when they are out at sea without any female companionship for any length of time. They are like ravenous animals that have not had a meal in more than a week. They will jump on any female that comes near them."

"But they are your friends!"

"Correction, they are my crew members. I hired them for their brawn. They can tote cargo, are trustworthy—up to a point—and have no families to distract them from the task at hand. I didn't hire them for their honor and gentlemanly manners, of which I am assuming they have none."

Her chin was held high but suddenly the mask on her face that was the epitome of haughtiness fell and Rhett caught a look of alarm take its place as her eyes scanned his room in near panic. He watched her a moment, then continued, "So, my dear, you are in quite a little predicament, aren't you? Afraid to go home, unable to face your aunts, stuck on a ship with a crew of unruly men who would just as easily take you against your will as throw you overboard if you dared look at them sideways. All because you were unwilling to wait just one month for me to return—"

"Why? So I could be your mistress? I'll tell you something, Rhett Butler. You think you're so damned high and mighty. Spouting all your rules and regulations to me. Well, I've had enough! Don't you give me a second thought, not that you would have anyway. Just leave me alone!" She jumped up from the chair but didn't get far.

"Sit down!" He said, pushing her back down. "I haven't dismissed you yet." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in as he watched her settle back into the chair as the air in her lungs escaped. "Before you leave, just answer my earlier question. How are your accommodations?" he asked with a sly grin.

"They're fine!"

"Oh, they are, that's good. Any questions?"

Scarlett looked down and shyly surveyed his quarters, which were luxurious compared to the rat hole she had to sleep in. "Umm…where…er…where is…er…" She eyed the door behind him.

Rhett watched her squirm and followed the trail of her eyes. She was sitting there wringing her hands and started twisting some of the excess fabric of her shirt until she had pulled a sizable amount of it out of her pants and now it was bunched up in her lap.

"What is it, Scarlett? Out with it, quick! I haven't all day," he stated impatiently, though his eyes danced with mischief.

"Where…where…" she took a deep breath so she could finish. "Where are the facilities?"

"Are you referring to the commode? Your dressing room? Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Well, do you remember seeing that long plank on the back wall of the crew's quarters below deck?"

Scarlett's mind tried to recall what he was referring to in the dimly lit quarters below deck. "Yes, I think so."

"Well, there you go."

"What?"

"You've found it."

"I found what?"

"The facilities, as you call it. The long plank has a hinged door on top. Open that and there's a hole…ah…I admit, it isn't as luxurious as the accommodations at the Atlanta's National Hotel, but for a ship, it is downright ostentatious in its grandeur—"

"An old board! You must be joking?"

"Not in the least. Now if you'll excuse me." He turned away from her and started adjusting papers on his desk.

"But…but…" she sputtered.

"But what?" He asked innocently.

"There are no walls. There is no…no privacy!"

"Listen, Scarlett, that is precisely why only men travel onboard this ship. We don't have a so-called Ladies' Room on the left and a Gentlemen's Room on the right. This is a business and frills cost money and reduce profits. So, to answer your question, no. Don't expect to find gingham and lace curtains around here. Life on board this ship is crude. I'm not hosting a ladies' tea here. The men drop their drawers and you can choose to look away or not. That's your choice. Believe me, you'll see far worse. You'll do well to remember that."

"But…but…" Rhett studied her and he could see tears begin to well up in her eyes but they did not fall. He watched her swallow hard and look down at the floor. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were steely hard and her chin determined. "Fine. I'll be fine," she said and turned to leave.

"Scarlett, stop right there. I'll tell the other crew members that you will be my…er…for want of a better word, let's say you'll be my _valet_," he stretched out the word for added emphasis, "which in this case, means you're responsible for _cleaning_ my quarters and…"

"What? I'm to be your maid!"

"Will you calm down and listen to me for a minute!" He stood from the chair and started pacing, raking his fingers through his hair. "God, women!"

She bit her tongue and huffed loudly, but she quieted long enough for him to continue. "They will _think_ you're cleaning my quarters, all right?" He turned to face her directly. "In fact, you and I will lead them to think I'm so disorganized that I need my quarters cleaned, oh…ummm…what four, five times a day? You come in here at regular intervals when I'm otherwise occupied and you can use my facilities in private," he said, swinging open a door to his dressing room.

"What?" Scarlett was stunned at what she saw. Inside his dressing room was a lovely porcelain commode, a huge wardrobe, washstand with a pitcher and bowl…why it was nearly as nice as her dressing room at Tara! And he had it all to himself! "This is all yours and you make your men live like animals?"

"This is the privilege of being the boss and the captain of this ship. It is my neck on the line when we run a blockade. It is my money that is invested in this ship, no one else's. Just who should have the larger accommodations, hmm?"

He held up his hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to speak. "Besides, before you spout any other nonsense, remember that I'm offering to share them with you for the duration of the voyage. Use them whenever you need to, just try to develop a regular schedule so that the men don't become suspicious, and oh…bring in a broom once in awhile, too."

She glared at him with undisguised hatred. "It will keep up appearances," he continued with a smirk. "Appearances need to be maintained around here, Scarlett. Life will be quite unpleasant if your cover is blown, I assure you."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Avoiding Suspicion

Somehow, someway, Scarlett made it back to the crew's quarters where she found the bed she had been assigned. Well, it really couldn't be called a bed at all. The room was reasonably large, by a ship's standards, with a stove in the center. On the two long walls, were two rows of what could be described only as shelves. The hard wooden shelves were topped with several mattress ticks, laid end to end. At one end of every tick lay a pillow and a neatly folded blanket. Above the two shelves several lengths of burlap fabric hung from the ceiling. What that was used for, Scarlett had no idea.

On the back wall was the long, covered board Scarlett now knew to be the men's commode. Just the sight of it made Scarlett shiver with distaste. Had Rhett not offered his quarters to her, she just might fast for the next few days to avoid having to answer the call of nature. Behind her, on the fourth wall, were the stairs to the upper deck along with a desk, topped with a couple of books, a newspaper, a pouch of tobacco and other assorted items that belonged to one or more of the men.

Just then, Scarlett wanted nothing more than to crawl mercifully into her bunk, distasteful as it was. There were no sheets on the tick and no pillowcase. The thought of laying down upon this dirty mattress and putting her head on this pillow was enough to make her gag, yet the prospect of being alone to cry her tears made even this sufferable. "Oh, nothing is turning out how I imagined it," she cried to herself as she sat morosely on her bunk. She was just noticing how thin the tick really was when the man she had come to know as Karl, abruptly came down the steps.

"For God's sake, are you deaf, boy? I've been calling and calling you. Where the hell have you been? Get back up on deck. There's work to be done before you turn in for the night."

Scarlett was too stunned to move and the full realization of what she had done and the enormity of the mess she had gotten herself into came down upon her making it hard to breathe. She looked up at the man too stunned to move.

"C'mon! Get a move on, boy!" yelled Karl, standing with his feet wide and his hands on his hips.

When she still didn't move a muscle, he bent a little at the waist to try and peer under the brim of her hat. "C'mon boy," he said in a softer tone. "You're homesick. That's what it is. I see it all the time. Let's go. You'll get over it. You'll see your mama again. If there's one thing I know, Captain Butler will see to your safety. He'll get you home safe and sound."

For a second, Karl thought he may have heard the boy growl, but figured he was mistaken. "C'mon lad. Cat got your tongue? What's your name?"

Just then, Scarlett knew that it would probably be to her benefit if in fact the cat had run off with her tongue. How was she going to imitate a man's voice?

"Lad, speak up! I've had enough of his nonsense! Now's what's your name?"

"Joe," blurted out Scarlett in a voice she assumed was gruff and deep enough to pass for a teenage boy. At the moment, all she could think of was Joe Fontaine, who was not much taller than she.

"Joe." Karl seemed to turn the name around on his tongue. "Joe…hmm…Joe. Nah, that's not right."

Scarlett's heart leapt, assuming her lie had already been detected.

"Joe," Karl repeated again. "Nah, it just doesn't fit you," he declared. "But all right, Joe, if you say so. Then, Joe, let's get a move on."

This time Scarlett willed her legs to move and she climbed to the deck as instructed. Once there, she awaited direction from Karl. The other men were bustling about the deck, lugging ropes or tugging on them, some tethered to auxiliary sails that flew above the boat.

"Here, lad. You're small, but I'm hoping you're wiry," said Karl, pointing to a pile of wooden pallets that were stacked on deck. "We'll be loading cargo onto these later, but for now, they're in the way. Move them aft and stack them in the corner out of the way."

Scarlett's initial reaction was to think, "What! Are you kidding?" But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhett and she could have sworn that she noticed him snicker, which only bolstered her determination. She took off toward the pallets. She picked up an end of the pallet on the top of the pile. It was about three-feet square. She approached it from one angle, fumbled and then, took another tact. She grabbed it again only to drop it with a bang when a sliver of wood stabbed her palm.

"Here, try these." Karl appeared from behind her and tossed a pair of leather work gloves onto the stack of pallets. Scarlett gave him a smile in grateful appreciation as she pulled on the gloves and tackled the job again with renewed vigor.

Holding her tongue between her teeth, on her fifth attempt she finally maneuvered a pallet to its designated spot. Now knowing how to tackle the project, she persevered with what Rhett, who was watching her covertly from the shadows, could only describe as dogged determination.

She hauled and tugged and hauled and tugged for what seemed like an eternity. All Scarlett knew was that by the time she was nearly finished, the sun had sunk to the horizon and the other men had long since retreated below deck.

Karl, who was surveying the work done, came upon Joe still working at the task he assigned him.

"What! You're still at this? Why you are a weak one, aren't you?" Karl said, pushing his hat back from his forehead as he surveyed her progress. Finally, sighing with resignation, he shook his head and grabbed one the edge of one of the remaining pallets. "Here, let me help ye with this."

"No, thank you, sir. I'll finish up," Scarlett said gruffly, keeping her head down. "It's my job. I'll see it through."

Karl looked up at the lad and smiled. "You're small but you've got determination. I'll give you that. Well, if that's how you want it, I'll let you finish up. When you're done, you can call it a day."

Scarlett nodded at Karl and with her second wind was able to finish up moving the pallets within the hour. By that time, the deck was deserted with most of the men having long ago retreated to their quarters. Exhausted, Scarlett breathed deeply and peeled the leather gloves off her hands. Dreading the idea of going to bed while the men were still lingering about, Scarlett decided to stay topside for a while longer and strode purposely toward the ship's bow. Up front, she discovered a small bench tucked between two big whiskey barrels and settled herself in the nook they formed. It was only then that she looked up to the sky and noticed how bright the moon was and caught sight of a dozen stars, one in particular shining apart from the others. Without a thought, she immediately closed her eyes tight and made a wish, a ritual taught to her as a child by Mammy, who said wishing upon the first star of the night would ensure that her wish would come true.

With her eyes shut tight, Scarlett whispered her plea as a tear trickled down her cheek. Opening her eyes, she felt foolish. Wishes didn't come true! If they did, she wouldn't be in this terrible predicament, humiliated and regulated to working like a field hand, unable and unwilling to return home. She quickly wiped away the stray tear with her hand and lifted her face to the incoming brisk wind. It dried her tears better than she could do and turned her cheeks rosy from its chill. Thinking she was alone, Scarlett removed her hat and the gusty wind loosened her hair until it whipped around her face. For Scarlett, the wind was therapeutic, cleansing her as no bath at this point could. It dried her tears as they spilled from her overflowing eyes and burnished her black hair until it shone like velvet.

Scarlett never looked more beautiful. She had a wildness about her, a determination and the wind seemingly rejuvenated her spirit just as pouring water on a wilted flower can make it stand up straight and tall. She bathed in the wind, raising her hands to her head and coming her fingers through her tangled tresses. Rhett, who had stealthly meandered around the deck all evening, keeping his eyes on Scarlett, watched her from the shadows. Obviously she had no idea of his presence or she was more naïve than he thought because her reaction to the wind in her face and the wild sea was almost primal and so sensual that Rhett found himself becoming aroused much to his surprise and distress.

"Damn, her!" he cursed silently. He desperately needed time alone and her presence onboard was unnerving. He wouldn't be in this position if she had stayed put in Charleston as he had hoped. He had to put a stop to this.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rhett hissed at Scarlett, sneaking up behind her.

Scarlett jumped. Startled at the sound of his voice, she could only turn toward him and gasp.

The sight of her up close startled Rhett as well. Her green eyes blazed and her lips, reddened by the salty air, were ruby red and parted in surprise. From her shoulders up, she was all womanly feminity and from her shoulders down, well…Rhett was already well acquainted with the allures that were hidden under the boyish, baggy clothes. His hands went cold and his heart raced at the sight of her. To cover himself, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Don't you realize that if anyone caught you like this your crazy scheme would be exposed?" he barked. "Well, don't you?" he repeated when she didn't answer him.

Rhett drew close to Scarlett, so close that strands of her black hair whipped around his face. "I told you that there would be consequences if anyone found out who you are, didn't I. Or, did I not make myself clear?"

Her hair blew about wildly, enveloping them in a veil of black strands that now seemed to be indistinguishable from the inky sky, where the stars sparkled like diamonds woven through her tresses. At his admonition, Scarlett's hands tried madly to rein in her hair until she finally grasped enough of it in her one hand so that that she was able to pull her floppy hat back on her head with the other.

"There! Satisfied now?" she hissed back in return.

"You're quite the little spitfire, aren't you? Well, I'll tell you this—don't get too comfortable around here because you never will know who is watching you. At the risk of repeating myself, if any one so much as suspects that you are not who you profess to be, there will be consequences. Don't forget that. Do you understand?"

Scarlett's eyes glared at him with undisguised hatred. "I hate you!" she spat and turned abruptly to head below deck but Rhett was too quick and grabbed her arm as she left, spinning her back until she bumped against his chest and their faces were mere inches apart.

His breath was warm on her forehead in contrast to the cool night air and Scarlett felt her heart thumping madly in her chest and hoped that Rhett couldn't feel it too. Their eyes held and locked. Black eyes bore into green and green drilled into black in a virtual standoff. Finally, Rhett broke the silence.

"You can use my quarters to clean up before retiring."

Scarlett shook off his arm that held onto hers and started off toward his quarters. "Don't I get even a 'thank you'?" Rhett inquired.

"Thank you, _sir_," Scarlett answered, turning to look at him as she punctuated the word _sir_ in her most sarcastic tone. Silence hung in the air with only the sound coming from the flapping sails and waves sloshing against the side of the boat. After she was satisfied that she made her point, she strode away, leaving Rhett alone on deck.

Hastening to Rhett's luxurious cabin, Scarlett doubled over and dry heaved into the wash basin. Her hands shook and were cold and clammy as she tried to hold back her hair. She retched and her empty stomach cried foul. For the first time in her life, fear took hold of Scarlett O'Hara. If what Rhett said was true, she had narrowly escaped detection. If someone other than Rhett had found her on deck and learned she was a woman…well…the consequences could be…

"Oh, God!" Scarlett wailed. She had heard plenty of sordid tales of what men did when they were deprived of feminine companionship. She heard stories about how the Yankees would rape women, having their way with them until they satisfied their depraved appetites. How would these men be any different? Why, if just one of them knew her true identity, he might blackmail her…force her to… "I won't think about that now," Scarlett told herself, pushing the ugly thoughts to the back of her mind. She had only a few minutes to clean up before heading to her quarters where all the other hands would be sleeping. "Oh, but I have to think about it now!"

Scarlett removed her hat and tucked her hair behind her ears. She splashed cool water on her face and found a bar of French milled soap that she used to wash her hands and face. She discovered a hairbrush on the dresser and began detangling her hair, which at this point, seemed to be an impossible task. The sea air had turned her usually wavy hair into an unruly mass of curls that were snarled by the wind. Dragging the brush through the knots only caused Scarlett frustration and she winced with each unproductive stroke. "Damn!" she cried as her frustration gave way to exhaustion, creating a volatile mix when combined with her anger. Her strokes came stronger and faster until Scarlett was bruising her temple with the hard tortoise shell brush. It was at that precise moment that her eye caught a glint of metal as it flashed in the mirror. That was it! That was the answer!

Never a cautious decision-maker, Scarlett's personality was to take action and dwell on the consequences later. Given her current predicament, one would think that Scarlett had learned her lesson and would have shunned hasty decisions, but fatigue and impotent anger were clouding her mind as she grabbed the metal object from Rhett's desk that was so temptingly flashing in the moonlight.

Racing back to the mirror, Scarlett took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to summon her resolve. She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the mirror with renewed determination. Her mind drifted back to a spring day when she was eight. She had been climbing trees with the Tarleton twins when Mammy had found her dangling upside down from her knees as she hung from a tree branch, her skirts up over her head. Mammy couldn't believe her eyes and had dragged Scarlett bodily into the house and scolded her to "ack like a 'lil lady." She was told over and over that she was a girl, not a boy and it was high time she started acting like one. In Scarlett's childlike mind she saw no advantages to being a girl. Boys could run wild, climb trees and do whatever they wanted, while she, Scarlett was forced to sit still for hours while Mammy braided her hair. She had to keep her skirts clean, sit with her hands folded neatly in her lap and learn needlepoint. Girls couldn't do anything fun. So, Scarlett decided she would be better off being a boy and thought of a simple remedy. She snuck into her mother's sewing room and took Ellen's scissors from her sewing basket. She tiptoed back upstairs and had cut several chunks of hair from her head before Ellen had walked in and caught her. But by then, the damage had been done. Scarlett had chopped random sections of her long hair from her head, leaving Mammy and Ellen to try and fix it by cutting the rest of her hair to even out the damage. After that, nothing had changed. In fact, her situation had only worsened. Her punishment was to spend two hours indoors each summer day reading poetry in addition to finishing an entire needlepoint project while she heard the boys running outside and calling her name to come out and play.

Now the situation was different. She was in a dire predicament and if she had to pass for a boy, she better start looking like one. If that meant cutting off her hair to avoid suspicion, she would damn well do it!

She grasped a fistful of her hair and brought the heavy scissors up to her temple. She had just inserted the strands between the blades when there was a heavy crash and the scissors was ripped from her hands followed by Rhett howling: "What in God's name are you thinking?"

Both Rhett and Scarlett's breaths came in gasps as they broke apart and stared alternatively at the lock of hair that lay on the floor and the gleaming scissors that Rhett now held high in his hand. "What the hell?" was all Rhett could say as he tired to regain some composure.

"You wanted me to pass undetected. You didn't want anyone to suspect who I was, so I am going to take the steps to do just that if you…sir…will just hand me back the scissors. I won't trouble you again," Scarlett snarled with all the sarcasm she could muster.

"You little fool!"

Rhett looked as though he had been flung against the wall but in reality it was Scarlett who he had nearly flung across the room in attempt to grab the scissors from her hand. He was nearly breathless in shock, gaping at Scarlett in surprise, whereas, Scarlett stood on firm footing, waiting for him to explain himself.

"The scissors, please."

"Are you kidding? Do I have to rid the room of ever sharp object to keep you in check?"

"In check? It is you who must be kidding. Exactly why do you have to keep me in check? I was doing exactly what you ordered me to do."

"And when did I order you to cut your hair?"

"Do I need to remind you that you warned me of the consequences of anyone finding out who I was after my hair came loose from my hat. By cutting my hair, sir, I only thought I'd keep any suspicion at bay," Scarlett explained with a haughty composure she thought would have made her Grandmother Solange Robillard proud.

"I never thought you would cut your hair."

"Oh, no? And why not, sir?"

"Stop calling me 'sir' this minute," Rhett said, putting the scissors into his top desk drawer before taking a step toward Scarlett. "Let me get this straight so you understand me completely. I do not want you calling me sir and I do not want you cutting your hair."

"And exactly what should I call you…_sir_?"

Rhett picked up lock of hair on the floor and shook his head as he looked at the strands that lay limply in his hand. "I don't care what you call me, but it better not be sir," he said. He set the shorn lock on his desk blotter with care and reached out to toward Scarlett. His hand went gently around her neck and he lightly fingered the strands of her hair before his fingers came to rest softly against her cheek. "And whatever you do," he added in a softer voice, a voice that brought out goose bumps on her skin and made her breath stop short in her throat. "Don't ever think of cutting your hair." He was so close to her now that she could feel his heartbeat. His fingers floated through her hair and he held his hand, now laced with her hair against her cheek. "You should never cut your hair. It is far too beautiful."

"Really?" Scarlett's proud, haughty voice turned to childlike innocence.

"Really."


End file.
